Unintended
by GoldenNinde
Summary: I never meant for it to happen. He certainly didn't either. It was unintended.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is M. I realised that I hadn't written anything properly M (well, hadn't posted it anyway) and then I got bitten by the inspiration bug and wrote this. It's not a oneshot, in fact I have a whole story planned… and with the right leverage, I might just continue…**_

_**No! No, it's not blackmail! I'm just setting a few demands in exchange for… a… ransom. Hm.**_

_**Oh and, this isn't exactly hard core smut, but it IS M.**_

**UNINTENDED – by GoldenNinde**

.

Stakeout.

The night was dark, and his eyes were too.

Today had been bad, one of _those_ days when his answers came short and strained, his eyes were black like the sky outside and his thoughts were, more than ever, impossible for me to understand.

"Booth?"

"Shh. We're not supposed to talk during a stakeout."

"What? But this is exactly the opposite of what you said to me the other time."

"Just… shut it, okay?"

I wondered what I'd done wrong now. He looked so angry, and I knew this even though the darkness prevented me from seeing more than the outlines of his face.

A part of me hurt, because he'd never spoken to me like that before, at least never when there was no danger or tension. Was there danger and tension now? We were only waiting for a suspect to show up.

Yet I couldn't get the two words out of my mind. They seemed oddly in place with our situation.

What situation? Stop it, Brennan.

I tried to pinpoint the moment when he'd begun acting like this. To my surprise and annoyance, I found I couldn't. It came in an intermittent way, although I'd detected that lately the frequency had increased.

This morning hadn't started out so bad, though. He'd walked in looking tired, but otherwise in a good mood. I missed the Booth who told silly jokes and pretended not to understand me all the time. I missed him.

I _could_ say when his manner had changed today.

I was in my office, getting my things because we had to get to court, and I heard him come inside. So naturally I turned to greet him.

Just in time to see his eyes transform.

They went from brown and lively to furious in a second, but my sharp eyes detected it. I tried to imagine a possible trigger for such a change, and couldn't. So I stretched back up to reach my notes (piled on a high shelf) and turned again.

The expression only solidified.

I sighed and watched the glass of the car window fog up. I felt tired, tired of replaying his face in my mind. He didn't look away from the steering wheel, although his face twitched when I breathed out.

It happened too much, lately, my mind wandering to his. I had rationalised it, we were partners, we spent most of our time together…

Yet this wasn't work-related anymore. This frequency and it's intensity meant one thing and one thing only. Attraction. Strong, undeniable physical attraction. It wasn't a thing I wanted, and I was working to avoid it and the eventual feelings that would follow, no matter how inevitable and crushingly difficult that might seem.

I didn't know it then, but the feelings had followed the attraction quickly. Faster than I could react.

The word _crushing_ was the wrong one to think in these circumstances, however. Crushing brought all kinds of images, fresh and clear in my mind, so real I almost wept.

His weight, those muscles, crushing my body as he moved to lie on top of me…

His lips, finally unleashed, crushing mine as we kissed like our lives would end…

His arms, crushing my waist as he pulled me closer, stronger, faster…

"Booth…" I whispered, desperate to get away from my own thoughts.

"Stop it."

"What?" I felt hurt, disoriented, still reeling in my own insane web of desire for him. When had this stakeout become my personal nightmare?

"I said, stop talking. Just… shut up."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my breathing and my heart rate, which was completely and unnecessarily frantic.

"Damn it, Bones, stop!"

I turned to look at him again, and saw he still stared murderously at the steering wheel. Stop what? I hadn't even said anything!

"Stop what, Booth?"

"Stop breathing, stop talking, just… fuck!" he punched the steering wheel and I jumped in my seat, not comprehending his logic. The alarm blared for a second.

"Shit." He said, quieter. "Now I've drawn attention to us."

I drew in another deep breath, hoping he wouldn't notice and maybe wouldn't destroy my insides anymore. His last words had already left them empty and ragged.

He noticed.

"I said stop breathing."

"It's irrational and ridiculous for you to ask me to stop breathing, Booth, unless you want me to die."

"I don't want you to die." He didn't sound like he meant it. "Let's just keep quiet and wait for our dear Mr B to come and visit Mrs Stoker."

I nodded, sensing he'd see even though he hadn't looked at me yet. My heartbeat still maintained it's violent rhythm. My brain tried breaking the last minute down into sequences, to understand his fury and the reason he'd thrown that punch. Because the reason couldn't be me.  
Perhaps there was another problem. With Parker, or Rebecca? Well, what was that to me? I adored the little boy, but his mother knew Booth in a way I never could.

This was also the wrong sentence to think right now. Cursed as I was with perfect memory, and the ability to clearly picture any scenario I wanted (or didn't want) to, my mind seemed to delight in killing me today, as slowly as possible. To know Booth in certain ways kept appearing in my dreams lately…

Killing me as _painfully_ as possible was also part of my subconscious' plan, no doubt.

"Booth?"

He acted fast. I often forgot how perfect his reflexes were.

His hand shot out to clamp over my mouth in a millisecond. I didn't even have time to blink.

"I said, stop talking, didn't I? I need to concentrate and to _work_. This guy could well have killed three people, four if it's him having changed his MO for that latest victim. We need to stop him and put him in prison. Now let me do my job, dammit, and _shut up_."

Was there a reason for me to start crying? Perhaps. But I should have known better. I should have quenched the pain and kept it in, not let my emotions get the better of me. I should have known that.

All it took was a single tear to roll down my cheek and gently drip into his finger.

He wrenched his hand away, like my tears were acid poison. It felt that way to me, anyway.

I couldn't believe what had just happened, or the reaction my body had generated. It was excessive and disproportionate to his touch. It was ridiculous.

A part of my brain noted how his eyes shone, which was odd, seeing as there were no light sources and no reflective surfaces. The rest of me was trying to concentrate on processing thoughts, like words and colours and smells.

"Bones, I'm sorry." He seemed to crumple in on himself. Fury evaporated, at least for a few moments, to be replaced by a kind of empty despair. "Please don't cry, Bones. I'm sorry."

He leaned forward, brushing the tears from my cheeks, unaware what he was doing to me now, no doubt. "I'm so sorry, please, forgive me okay? Please, Bones, please… I'm sorry, please…" He whispered, getting closer and closer, touching, caressing my face, even though there were no more tears, how could there be when he said things like that?

Even though he was quiet, his voice was all I could hear, as if other sounds (traffic, people walking by, my own heartbeat) simply muted if he spoke.

"Please, Bones… please…"

My senses alert, I managed to register something other than his touch.

He wasn't apologising anymore. He was begging, his face a mask of pain, but he was asking me for something… what?

He kept softly tracing the outlines of my face; eyebrows, nose, cheeks, jaw… never lips, though.

"Please, Temperance…"

And for once, without anyone having to explain it to me, I knew. His face was inches from mine, it would be so easy to simply erase that space separating us. He was asking me to.

I knew this without a doubt. For once I was _sure_.

The emotion which exploded inside of me was indescribable. I felt like I stood on a wave, the moment before it crashed down, and at the very tip, my lips parted.

First, lightning.

The contact was like lightning. A flash of pleasure and desire sharp and almost painfully spiked.

And then came the thunder.

I wasn't ready for his response. His hands, already on either side of my face, pulled me closer, and he tilted his face sideways for more contact, more pressure, tongue sliding inside and tasting. One hand went to surround my waist and pull me on top of him. I gasped at his strength, as he easily lifted me sideways. The other hand slid into my hair, once again pulling me closer.

But I wanted more. And less.

More contact, more strength, more of him, of Booth. More of this exquisite longing, more of his lips, more of the pressure against my thighs, the sign that he also wanted more… much more.

Less clothes.

Now.

The hand in my hair now slid lower, to my neck and then lower, slowly, tantalising. I moaned against his mouth, never lifting my lips from his. Faster! Not slow!

He understood, and slid his hand to cup my left breast, making me tremble. Yes! This was better. But I still needed to take off my shirt. His fingers through the fabric weren't enough, I wanted skin.

We never stopped kissing, never because when we did, something terrible was going to happen. My lungs ached for air, but I didn't care, because the moment I looked into his eyes all of this would end.

And this couldn't end. I'd never felt like this before, never ached and burned for something so badly. Of course I'd been with men, probably a few more than monogamous women, but it had been very long, now. And it had never been Booth, Booth who I thought about night and day.

I'd never needed something with this kind of pathetic desperation. If he'd stopped, I would have cried. Cried a thousand tears until his hand went to my cheek again and all of this happened. Again.

But now his other hand was on my side, moving up and down: hip to right under my breast, gently touching it until it went back down, almost brushing my thigh and then back up.

The right hand began to (slowly, again) edge toward the collar of my shirt. And then tug it down, his nails digging into my skin as he did so. The edge of my bra began to surface.

Both hands held me so tight I was sure there'd be a bruise tomorrow… but tomorrow wasn't a concept that existed here.

I ached, I hurt from wanting him!

He was killing me. He had decided to kill me.

So I decided I would end him first. I would survive by killing him _more_.

My hands, until now simply holding onto his shoulders, explored.

One went to his neck, and the other to his chest, although the space between us was small to say the least. The car seat was cramped, but I wanted to be close to him, so I didn't need any more. At least not now. Now, this was perfect. God, he was perfect, beautiful, delicious, good. He felt so perfectly large against me.

My hand went down his chest, frantic, exploring more, wanting to touch everything, everywhere. The moment I brushed the hard tent in his pants I felt it respond.

He growled, the sound like rolling thunder, and I almost came right then and there because the vibration he sent through my spine was electrifying. My body arched involuntarily and I pressed up against him, fighting it in order to keep our mouths together. Still our lips hadn't separated and I ignored the sharp pain from my now burning lungs.

His moan as my hand danced around, tugging and stroking his erection would have made my knees buckle if I'd been standing.

And then something happened. As I thought I was going to orgasm just with this, this friction and his hands and his lips and us, he pushed me away.

"What are you doing?" I moaned.

He couldn't do this. Not now. Please not now, I was going to start crying again in frustration and fury if he stopped now.

"Well I thought you'd like to breathe, Bones."

"Breathe? I don't need to _breathe_!"

But breathe we did. And with every breath, more cool air that didn't taste of Booth poisoned my thoughts. The suspect. We couldn't even see outside, because every window was fogged up.

We needed to catch him. We needed to stop this before it was too late.

Stop.

Such a horrible word.

Too late? It was already too late.

I was standing on top of him, straddling him, gasping for air and feeling so strained from the effort of not kissing him that it hurt. My body felt wired, and every inch of him I touched was precious. My head was buzzing, dizzy with the desire. How could he have stopped?

Well, obviously he didn't want this as much as I did. I looked down and opened my mouth, prepared to shout, cry, I don't know what… and then…

His eyes had a look I'd never forget as long as I lived. It was… it took me by such surprise I actually gasped, and felt a tear escape my eyelashes. Pathetic, but his face…

He was looking at me with reverence. His eyes took it all in, took me all in, his mouth slightly open in a kind of surprised wonder, like I was beautiful, like my messed up hair and gasping breaths were beautiful, like my aching body, aching for him, like _that_ was beautiful.

I felt cherished and wanted. I felt… worshipped.

And then it all disappeared. His eyes became black once again, dark with desire and anger and a shaking sadness so deep I felt afraid… and the delicate, wonderful moment shattered into a million pieces.

"Bones, if you don't sit back down in your seat within five seconds, I won't be able to stop."

He said it with disgust, almost. At himself, hating himself, angry with himself, sad with himself.

He wasn't asking me to leave. He was simply telling me a fact. He was making this my choice.

How could I do it? How could I muster the strength? Where to take it from?

I searched for it inside of me, but only found myself missing his touch, his hands and his lips, desperate to explore more and be explored. His lips had never left mine, I wanted them everywhere, I could see he did too…

But of course, I would have to do it. I would have to be strong and do it.

I never knew how I did it, but I opened the driver door and got out. Stumbled out, really, my legs still weak from wanting him.

The cold, chill air seemed to freeze my clothes and my hair, finding ways to quickly erase the warmth he'd left there, cooling every mark he'd made. My thoughts spun, making me almost blind. What had we done?

I was myself once more, and the cold air froze time, space, my heart, my lungs, my mind. Everything but a single thought.

_What had we done?_

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_**Indeed.**_

_**So, you know what to do, just press that beautiful little green button there and be on your way to… the other things you want to do today. But don't forget… review!**_

_**The speed with which the second chap will be updated is directly proportional to the number or reviews I get…**_

_**So…**_

_**Do the math. ;)**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey guys!**_

_**WOW! You are so cool! 18 reviews within very few hours of me posting this! I love fanfiction! Hehe, anyway, here's some more for you guys, because you are made of awesome.**_

**UNINTENDED ****– by GoldenNinde**

**Chapter 2**

_What had __we done?_

"Bones."

I jumped, startled. I hadn't really expected him to talk to me. Or call me right after I stumbled out. For one, crazy moment I thought he was calling me to continue where we left off. But of course, his tone as he said that one word (and it just _had_ to be that one) was final, sad.

I felt angry, and frustrated, and still pulsing from unfulfilled urges.

"What?" I spat, perhaps a bit too aggressive. But suddenly I was furious. He was the one who'd asked, who'd begged… and he was the one who stopped.

_I hated him_.

"Get back inside the car, you'll compromise the investigation. And catch a cold."

And he certainly wasn't going to try and change my mind.

I couldn't see him; the door was closed, the window still foggy (although this was disappearing), the inside of the car; dark, and the night; darker. But even though I couldn't, I knew what I'd see when I opened the door.

And that was exactly what I saw.

He was clutching the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He didn't glance at me as I shut the door and sat down next to him, but I could see the fabric of his pants, straining. Yet his face was a mask of regret and self hatred. This had been wrong, a slip of focus, to him. _Error_. His eyes burned with the word.

I hated him. During these moments I truly, deeply hated him for doing this to me. For making me feel crazy with need, and then making me choose, and then making me go inside the car when all I needed was the cold wind to clear my mind. And my body.

My hate fuelled my determination, and my courage.

"Why were you so angry? This morning, when you came into my office… what happened?"

I didn't ask the real question, though. Why was he so angry _all the time_? Not just this morning, not just today. What was wrong with us?

I'd wanted to make him uncomfortable, to make him hot for me, as much as I was for him, still now, panting for breath inside this wretched car.

I had no idea that he would be up to the challenge.

More than up for it.

"Are you kidding? You. That's what happened. You in those ridiculous jeans leaning up for some papers or whatever… you looked so hot I almost broke down."

I shivered, unable to contain the irrational feeling this little confession brought.

"And now?"

Make him say it, make him suffer…

"For god's sake, even your breathing turns me on!"

I froze in shock.

Now what?

"But…" I didn't know what to say. I had no idea what to say.

"Bones, we have to forget this. I mean… we'll be fine, right? Let's just forget it happened, we're going to be okay."

"Sure. Let's just forget." He didn't miss my sour tone.

"Bones, I think it's best…"

"Yes, let's always do what you think! Just juggle me around and decide when you want to stop, then decide if you want to start again! You're driving me crazy! You're insufferable and idiotic and moronic and I _hate_ you! I hate you! I hate you and I don't _care_ what you think!"

It was my turn to punch the car.

"Bones, please stop that."

"Stop _what_?" I shouted.

"Stop being angry, it makes me want you. You look hot when you're angry. And don't ever say I drive you crazy again. That's just worse." He sounded calm, which I hated. I wasn't calm. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me. Those words were killing me. _Again_.

"God, Booth! Then go outside and cool down, do you think I give a _shit_-"

He cut me off with a searing, frantic kiss.

"Told you."

And he opened the door and went outside.

I was speechless.

*

Ten minutes later, he came back in, soaked. I realised that it had started to hail, and the thumps as ice hit the car hadn't even registered in my mind. I was really out of it.

"Did that help?" I asked, voice dripping in sarcasm.

"No." he raised his eyebrows at the tent in his pants, and I couldn't help but let my eyes flicker there for a moment. A second, really.

But it was enough to make my mouth dry, and all kinds of thoughts cloud my head.

He shut the door and sighed. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Now that I knew, now that we'd kissed and more I couldn't stop looking at him. Thinking. Processing.

Wishing.

Longing.

He was frowning, the lines from the forehead gently curving his eyebrows and half closing his eyes. His jaw was clenched, and for a second this strange, careless calm he was exuding seemed to flicker, and I caught a glimpse of the chasm of turmoil going on inside his head.

Even though I didn't understand any of it.

Idly, I wondered whether he'd yell at me again if I spoke. Or took a deep breath.

But my more rational, reasonable half couldn't stop positing scenarios, projecting the most likely outcome to this… mistake.

What would happen to us? We had to hold, we had to be strong and keep everyone together. We couldn't break.

Had we broken? Was this how it ended… a passionate minute inside the car during a stakeout?

I waited, my mind lost in questions, for him to speak first. I would not lose this battle. I would be strong and not ask him in a frightened, child-like voice what was going to happen. I wouldn't cry _again_ tonight. Nor would I touch my lips, where his last, quick strong kiss still lingered.

"Bones…"

_Yes_. Round one went to him, but I had gotten this one, at least.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry. Again."

I looked at him, seeing him despite the darkness.

"I forgive you." My voice was quiet and intense, and the words came out without me deciding to say them. He wasn't the one to blame anyway… I had acted, hadn't I? This was both of us. And we'd have to face the consequences together. "But it's not your fault."

"Yes it is."

I was tired. Exhausted from trying to save him from himself, this past hour. From doing as he said, and then facing the consequences alone.

"No, it's not."

"Bones, I-"

"Okay, now _you_ shut up! Stop blaming yourself, Booth, you're only making this worse. Let's just talk like adults, please."

He swallowed all the self-loathing for now (and I saw how much it cost him) and nodded. I did too.

And now what?

"Are we going to act like it never happened?"

He sounded strange. He was looking at me, so I had a small window into his meaning, surely. But his voice was flat, toneless, and gave away nothing.

"It's impossible for us to simply forget this. Our memory, seeing each other every day…"

He sat up, as if drinking in my words.

"… so I suggest, not that we forget, but we simply move past it. It's a natural thing for us to feel attracted to one another and it's also natural that we gave in…"

Wrong choice of words again. Giving in was… just wrong.

I cleared my throat and continued.

"…gave in to phisical urges, but we're _partners_." The word was safe. Perfect.

"Yes, Bones, that we are."

I nodded, vehemently.

"Exactly, and we must keep working together properly, so I see no other alternative but to simply keep our relationship as it was."

"Right. Like I said."

Oh. Yes, that was what he'd been saying. In his own, _let's pretend this never happened and forget about it because I'm ashamed of asking you to kiss me_, way.

Well, we finally agreed on something.

"And today will never happen again."

"Sure."

"So we should move on, and keep doing our jobs like always. We are _good_ together." Maybe I was too intense when I said that last sentence. It was too true. In too many ways. "I feel that we work. We… we're _partners_, we catch criminals and we do it _well_. A team, you know?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. So you agree with me?"

"Yes."

"Great."

Silence. Minutes passed, until…

"I miss our friendship, Bones."

"Me too, Booth."

It was true. The comfort, the way everything seemed so easy when he was there. It had been a while since I'd felt like that; safe, happy. Lately everything was wired, electric, attractive… fatal.

And dangerous.

But we had finally broken down, cracked and recovered. We would get through this. We were fighters. We'd passed the peak…

_Again, what was wrong with__ me and my phrasing today?_

… passed the peak and survived.

For the first time that night, we simultaneously turned to each other and managed an honest smile. Friends. We were friends, and we'd completely forgotten for quite a long time.

I drank from the honesty shining in his eyes, feeling a bit safer, a bit… better.

"Partners." He said, his deep voice ruining my moment of calm. I almost groaned at how easily he did it.

It was just sad, on my part.

"Yes."

This was going to be hard. But I would do it. I'd be strong for him, I'd lock all my feelings somewhere and hope they died on their own. Booth, my friend, was worth all of that. He deserved my best effort.

I was going to try, as much as I could.

*

Ten minutes went by, when I suddenly realised something which made me cry out.

I'd just admitted to myself that I had feelings for Booth.

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_**Tan, tachaaaan!!!**_

_**These first two (and three, me thinks, still not sure… but hey, this story is mine, so…) first two chaps have nothing about the case, but there is going to be a case in there. It's not just Booth and Bren hooking up and then not and then yes and then not and then yes and then not and then yes and then not and then yes and then not and then yes…**_

_**;)**_

_**Oh, and did you hear that?**_

_**That was the sound of me wanting you to review! And… yes, that was the sound of a mouse clicking away and someone typing constructive criticism or just some good old love!**_

_**Such a **__**wonderful sound…**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Thank you! **__**Reviews are like tiny voices in my head (you know, besides the other ones) telling me to write more. And I'd just like to say, **__**Akasha-0703**__**, that I'm honoured! ;)**_

_**Oh, and this chap is a bit shorter. It was either that or no chaps till next week. Work begins again, people! I probably wont be able to post a chap a day (ha! More like one a week, I'm afraid). Sorry. Please don't kill me. Please?**_

_I'd just admitted to myself that I had feelings for Booth._

Oh, God.

"Bones, you moaning isn't really helping this situation!" he said through gritted teeth. I sensed that, once again, the anger shimmered just beneath the surface.

But thanks to my ability to compartmentalise, I noticed this while, at the same time, most of my brain was screaming. Screaming because it had just hit me.

It was that late?

I was _that_ late to catch up on what had happened?

Oh, God.

Unbidden to my mind, a strange picture began to form. I imagined, so clearly I could almost touch it, that I was standing in a corridor. I had been walking along it, carefully, because it was filled with slender glass snowflakes. Some were big as my head, others smaller. If I had so much as twitched, one of these would smash to the ground, and the rest would follow. Chain reaction.

And then I twitched.

Now, sitting here in this car, I could practically hear every delicate star-shaped crystal crashing down, shattering into a million pieces, and that in turn making the others around it break, until the whole corridor shook around me, and I ran, trying to avoid the wreckage and the glass flying everywhere.

"Bones, I'm serious. Stop it. Just… please, breathe normally. For me. Please."

I hadn't realised I was breathing shakily.

The small part of my brain which still seemed able to work noted how my body, once again and without my consent, reacted to his words and his admitted arousal.

I couldn't believe it. Feelings? What kinds of feelings?

Attraction was a feeling. I struggled desperately to go back, back to the blissful ignorance of before… but no, that wasn't the context in which I'd imagined it. I had been thinking about emotional connection, not just physical.

And it hadn't really been blissful ignorance, had it? Part of me had sensed what was coming.

I wasn't _that_ clueless.

And suddenly I realised something else. But this brought relief. Delicious, bone melting relief.

Nothing changed.

These feelings, this strange connection I felt with Booth changed absolutely nothing. I would still stifle it and smother it until there was nothing left, and then we'd go back to normal. He was obviously attracted to me, but this I had suspected before, and he didn't _feel_ anything. Nothing beyond sexual attraction.

Nothing.

How strange, that this new-found relief could evaporate so suddenly.

But I clutched my safeguard with strength. It still changed nothing. I would eliminate these feelings and we'd heal. We'd hold once more. We had both decided to live. And we were friends, _partners_. I managed a small smile to myself, as I realised I'd get to keep him. His comfort, his determination, his bravery. I'd get to keep him as a friend.

"Bones!"

His voice cut through my chain of thought. And might I just point out that the word chain in this context doesn't really reference a connected, flexible series of links, typically of metal, used especially for holding objects together or restraining or for transmitting mechanical power.

Just to avoid possible confusion.

Booth's voice was like the saw that would cut…

Well, you understand.

"Bones."

"What?"

"Bones, it's him!"

"Who?"

"Mr Bram! Look!"

He pointed, and I squinted through the sheen of frozen rain beating down on us.

A dark figure was running toward the block of apartments we'd parked in front of, but there was no way of telling whether it was really Frank Bram.

"I'm going to go pay him a visit."

Booth opened the car door and I followed. The heavy rain was freezing, but I welcomed it. Because it was _cold_.

"Booth!" I yelled over the sound of the downpour. I knew that anyone standing a couple of metres away wouldn't be able to hear us. Certainly not Mr Bram, or whoever it was running toward the apartment building.

"What?" he said, without turning to look at me.

"We can't know if it's him!"

"I still have to check. Stay in the car!"

I didn't even answer, but followed him as he ran toward the suspect.

*

"I told you it probably wasn't him!"

"We had to check anyway!"

"I think you frightened that boy quite a bit! I don't think he liked you."

"Yeah? Well I think that boy really liked _you_."

I wrenched open the car door and got inside, feeling sufficiently wet and cold. Booth did the same and we both sat down.

To my surprise, his hair looked oddly attractive when it was wet. In fact… the entire Booth looked very, very good soaked in water. More… primal.

Wait.

Okay, what? I couldn't be thinking these things. I had vowed not to do exactly that, and here I was thinking words like primal and animal and wet hands, and wet bodies and… oh, boy. This would be difficult.

I took a deep breath and just as I expelled the air and closed my eyes, I realised this brought consequences. Consequences I couldn't help but revel in.

"_Bones_."

"Sorry."

I couldn't believe we were talking about this so calmly. Well, I wasn't calm, but we weren't shouting or anything. Like I wanted to.

I took off my drenched jacket and twisted to leave it in the back seat. This movement was followed by yet another groan.

"Sorry."

I wondered what I'd do if he took his jacket off. Would he be surprised if I admitted it was bad for _me_ if he did that? Or would he be pleased, like I couldn't help being whenever he said my name in strained tones, fighting the urge to do things to me…?

_It didn't matter_. I tried telling myself this, like a mantra. Otherwise my sharp imagination got the better of me. Partners. Friends. Think of Booth talking to you, not kissing you madly…

Booth joking around on the platform. Booth guessing my passwords. "I know you, Bones". Booth saying my favourite words "Bones, we've got a case, come on". Booth and I speaking at the diner, loudly drawing glances our way with our discussions. He called them bickering. Booth admitting it when he was hurt, or sad. This never happened often. Booth needing time, but not space. Booth trying to heal me. And succeeding.

It worked.

I stared outside, not seeing much. I hater Frank Bram. Why couldn't he just come so that we could question him? Bastard. He'd probably killed those people, all the facts seemed to point to him.

There was another groan from Booth.

"What is it _now_?"

"Nothing."

How was I supposed to know that my wet clothes clung transparently to my body?

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_**Yeah, how **_**was**_** Bones supposed to know that?**_

_**Well, looking down seems waay too obvious. Hehe, but that's just me being cruel. Anyways, thanks again for the reviews. Learn that green button. Love it. Push it.**_

_**The next chap might take a couple more days.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey! Apologies for the delay, but here's a pretty action packed (no, not that kind of action, sorry) chappie for you!**_

_**More about the case intertwined with B/B deliciousness, of course.**_

_**Oh, and I was so happy with the reviews and stuff I totally forgot to post a disclaimer. So here it is, my very late disclaimer:**_

_**I DISCLAIM BONES.**_

_**There, that ought to do it.**_

_**.**_

_**.**_

**CHAPTER 4**

_How was I supposed to know that my wet clothes clung transparently to my body?_

"Fine."

I sighed, although carefully not to bother Booth again. I still found it hard to believe that he so freely admitted to being… _bothered_ by me. That didn't seem like him.

I checked my watch.

"Booth, it's twelve thirty. Don't you think Bram will wait another day? It's hailing. He might change his mind… his other kills were right at midnight, that was his signature, you _said_…"

"No." Booth shook his head, looking determined. I felt like a small piece of him was back, or at least like he had rescued another bit of himself from whatever it was that had changed him lately. He saw inside Frank Bram's mind. He knew what the man would do.

And I trusted him, knowing he was probably right.

"Bones, he'll be here today, all right? Trust me. Mrs Stoker is a potential victim, and we must be alert. Because of this rain there's too much noise, and all we can count on is… our… eyes…"

A deadly silence followed his words.

And then...

We both realised our gigantic flaw at the same time, and turned to exchange a look of horror and shock.

"Is it possible…?" I began, but Booth had already opened the door, and was sprinting away.

As I ran after him, I found it hard to believe how stupid and irrational we'd been. Lost in our little moment, we'd just risked a woman's life because of lust. Ten minutes of not paying our strictest attention to the street. And the stakes were high.

So it was like this that finally, my decision to erase every feeling took a secure and true grip in my mind. I wouldn't fail again. I couldn't live with myself if Mrs Stoker died because I felt like kissing Booth until my thoughts drowned in the flood of dopamine clouding my brain.

Never again.

"Booth!"

He stood at the door, gun in hand, breathing heavily. I splashed in next to him, feeling like an idiot.

"Booth, do you think…?" my voice was raw, vocal cords tense with the effort of not shouting. Did he think it was our fault…?

"We'll talk about this later, Bones. Right now I need you to stay behind me" at least he'd realised there was no way he was going in there alone "and be very, very quiet. Invisible. Like you're not there, get it? I… I'm not going to look at you, okay? But remember: I won't forget you're there."

I felt a strange, constricting sensation in my throat for a moment. Then it was gone and I could breathe again.

"I'd never forget, but for her, for Mrs Stoker I need to be focused, okay? I can't be looking at you. I'm sorry."  
"No. No, don't be. Let's just…" I motioned to the door, still trying to catch my breath (although we'd run relatively little). At least the door didn't look like it had been forced open. Then again, part of Frank Bram's MO was picking locks or obtaining the key by other means.

He nodded and slammed his shoulder into the hard wood.

There was a crack and the door flew open. Booth turned to me, and I couldn't help but take an instinctive step back, simply to shield myself from his look. I can't pinpoint, to this day, what it was that made me react like a frightened child, but whatever was in his eyes that night shook me to the core.

"Invisible, okay, Bones?" his pupils like two lanterns in the dark, his irises were burning coals.

"Yes." I whispered.

And he ran inside. I followed him as quietly as I could, even though every thump of my pulse rang in my ears with the same intensity as his eyes had smothered mine.

*

Mrs Stoker lived on the fourth floor of a relatively old apartment building. She was in her forties, tall and thin, attractive, with and elegant air about her. She didn't belong here, amongst middle class hard workers, and in fact she literally didn't belong in this neighbourhood: she had been moved here under the Witness Protection Program.

Although I had found her personality cold and aloof when I met her, I wished desperately that I could save her now. That we could get to her in time. Or that we had made a mistake, and she didn't need saving.

There was no elevator in this building.

Climbing four blocks of stairs without making a noise was harder than I thought, especially since Booth was running as fast as he could (which was very fast) and his body language seemed to indicate he was alone. Not a single pause to check on me, not a glance behind to make sure I was following.  
Well, he'd warned me.

*

The door was ajar. My heart metaphorically plummeted to the floor, and I looked at Booth, hoping to exchange a comforting glance.

No such luck. Booth was staring intently at the door, looking focused, looking serious. I felt panic begin to extend its dangerous grip around my thoughts. No instructions, no Booth, and Mrs Stoker who might be dead because of me.

Calm down, Temperance. I told myself that panicking right now was the wrong avenue to follow. I had a chance to help Mrs Stoker, assuming she was dead was counter productive and not logical.

Very quietly, so quietly that I probably wouldn't have noticed unless I was looking at him, Booth opened the door. He did it in a quick movement, although holding it so it didn't hit the wall. I knew (because he'd told me once) that this was an old FBI trick. If the door is prone to creaking, opening it slowly will only announce your presence more.

There was a short, dark corridor leading to the living room. I'd never been inside this apartment, but I knew Booth had. To my horror, the walls were absolutely covered in adornments, from animals to stars, vases and even _one big snowflake_, every single one made of glass and shining eerily in the moonlight, reminding me of my strange vision.

There were noises coming from the living room, and I craned my neck to see around Booth's form: the back of Mrs Stoker's figure. She was alive, and sitting on her couch. I breathed in relief.

She was talking to someone, however. And she sounded agitated. Not frightened, though I still puzzled over the open door when we'd entered.

"… don't believe you. No, I'm sorry but you're lying."

"No, I'm not. Why would I?"

"Are you serious? You have at least four different reasons to be lying to me right now…!"

"Are you going to risk it?"

There was a pause.

Booth had stopped walking, and now stood standing in the shadows, for all the world as though he was alone. I felt… lost. And visible.

"What are you doing?" she sounded frightened _now_.

There was a rustle of cloth as Mrs Stoker stood up from her couch, and what she said next was the cue for Booth to announce our presence.

"Stop it-!"

"Mrs Stoker, FBI!"

He ran into the living room, gun preceding him inside. I was right behind him, although with only my fists to fight.

"Mrs Stoker, I'm Agent Booth. It's okay."

She nodded, looking scared, and still not moving from her place against the wall.

Booth quickly turned to look at the man standing in front of Mrs Stoker's coffee table. I did too.

Mr Bram had gotten past us.

"Mr Bram, take a step toward the wall."

"For god's sake you people are pathetic...!"

"Against the wall! And shut up!"

My heart seemed to swell with pride (although in real life it would probably lead to death). We'd got him before it was too late.

"Why? What have I done? We were talking for Christ's sake..."

"Stand against the wall or I swear I'm going to make you, and I'm only going to need to use my finger."

I knew that this was a bluff, of course, because there was no way Booth was allowed to shoot a suspect during a No-Risk situation (Frank Bram wasn't armed), let alone without probable cause or even a hint of incriminating evidence.

Mr Bram seemed to know this too.

"No kidding." he didn't move an inch. "Do it, then. Oh and by the way… nice going with the hot cop girl, man. I'd tap that if she'd have me." He shot me a disgusting look, but I knew it was just to provoke and that he didn't really mean what he said.

And then I realised... he'd seen us. He hadn't just slipped by and not been caught, he _seen _us. He could use this information against Booth and me as he pleased.

Things were suddenly much more complicated.

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_**I'm sorry, but I just have to say that it's adorable and it makes me dance when you quote a particular bit of the chap you liked in a review! Is that sad? It's sad isn't it…? Oh well. Hey, this is NOT a subliminal way of saying I want you to do that. Really.**_

…

_**Really!**_

_**Hehe, just though I'd thank everyone. Again. And don't forget, criticism is most welcome as well, if anyone wants to drop any ideas…**_

_**Also, in this chap Bren is very, VERY determined to forget Booth. But before you light up those torches and sharpen those pitchforks, just wait. Keep reading (and reviewing!) and you'll see. ;)**_

_**PS. The next chap maay take a **__**bit more because I got a flash of inspiration for chap 6, which I've almost finished. I'm kind of happy about it, actually. And when you read it, I think you'll understand why.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**So here it is. Chapter 6 is almost finished too, so that will be up as soon as I can post it.  
**_

_**Thanks again for the encouragement!**_

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CHAPTER 5

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_Things were suddenly much more complicated._

For the first time Booth turned to exchange a look with me. However, instead of surprise, dread, or fear (a combination of which I was feeling now) he looked reassuring, secure.

"That's my girl." He seemed to agree with the suspect. "Now back off."

Bram raised his eyebrows. He was still standing, feet separated a bit more than normal (indicating confidence) and arms crossed (defensiveness). He was taller than I was, about Booth's height, with close cropped blonde hair and clear blue eyes. But he wasn't attractive, and even if he had been I wouldn't have thought him so. He repulsed me.

I decided that Booth had a plan with this, and that I must stick to it. A name sounded in my mind as if someone had just whispered it in my ear: "_Roxie_...".

I smiled at Booth like we shared a secret, and he grinned back. If I hadn't known him so well, I wouldn't have detected the minute facial details that told me he was acting. Booth didn't grin during a suspect detaining.

"Fine."

And to my immense surprise, it was this that got Bram to stand against the wall. Something to do with psychology, no doubt.

"Good. Cooperating makes you look a bit less like the stupidest killer in the world, Frank."

"Why thank you."

I wondered what happened now. Could we just cuff Bram? He was a suspect for the murder of Lily Sanders, the second victim. What had happened in here? Why wasn't he armed? He hadn't even tried to hurt Mrs Stoker, but she'd sounded afraid… and Booth had told me she had reason to be.

"What happened, ma'am if you don't mind?" Booth asked the woman. She was still standing against the wall, but she was leaning against it looking rather calm. In fact, she looked confident.

"He told me he hadn't killed those women."

I looked at Bram, hating him. He was a gardener, and he'd worked as a groundsman in the school where Lily Sanders had taught. I blinked and behind my eyes the image of her stress fractures was ready to remind me how much she'd suffered. Stab wounds in fourth and fifth vertebrae. And he'd sent her love letters, even though she was married… Lily had died a painful death. And this man could be her killer. Motive and means.

Just no evidence. Not a single trace; hair, skin, fingerprints, particulates we could tie to him… nothing.

All we knew was that he'd claimed to love one of the victims (had worked close to her) and now said he loved a woman who looked like a potential victim, yet hadn't been harmed in any way.

We had nothing but motive for one of three almost exact murders. The fact that they were exact told us it was the same killer, yet he didn't know the other two women. So this motive was nothing, too.

"Is that right? You didn't harm a soul, did you?" Booth shot Bram a disgusted look, gun still pointing at him. "Bones, cuff this idiot." There was a flash of metal and I caught the cuffs he'd thrown at me. I walked to Frank and pulled his arms behind him, pulling exactly the way I knew would hurt the most. Tense ligaments could be painful…

"Ouch! You're a strong cop girl, aren't you?"  
"That was for Lily."

Booth finally lowered his gun and I walked back to his side.

"Margaret? Could you tell me why he scared you?"

I knew Frank Bram had worked as a gardener for Margaret Stoker for two months, before he was fired for inappropriate behaviour. He began leaving her love letters telling her to leave Mr Stoker.

She fit his type exactly: tall, mid forties, brunette, beautiful. Married. Or at least she had been when he began sending those letters.

"Just… he creeped me out." Her eyes darted everywhere but at the man standing to her right. "He told me he loved me. That he knew what Kev, my ex-husband… that he knew what Kev had done. And that's impossible. No one knows. Only me and the Agents I told. How…?" now she did turn to Bram. "You can't know. You're lying." She turned back to me and Booth. "He said he'd hurt my husband if the men Kev had been working for tried to hurt _me_! Kevin was a bad man, but he deserves prison, not death!"

"It's okay, everything's over now. Come with us, backup is a block away. They'll take him. Dr Brennan will take you to the WP House, where you'll be given a new temporary address."

"Thank you, Agent Booth."

I led her outside, while Booth grabbed Bram.

As we walked away I heard the their voices:

"… so she's not a cop. Interesting." Bram was saying.

"Shut up and forget her. Don't even think about it. She's my girl, and if you so much as blink at her I swear…"

The deep menace in his voice had me rolling my eyes. His girl… _please_.

No, really.

Please.

*

"… have decided to let the suspect, Frank Bram, believe the Agent and Dr Brennan have a romantic relationship. This is due to circumstances which forced me to lie in order to control the suspect."

"I still don't understand why you said that."

"But after I did he listened to us, didn't he?"

"Yes. But I don't know why."

We were sitting in Booth's office and he was writing his report about last night. It was the next day at eight in the morning. After we finished I'd go back to work at the Jeffersonian; this was our only case, and Booth wasn't interrogating Frank Bram until tomorrow morning. We would see each other tonight, however, because Sweets wanted to meet us in the Diner.

"Why would us being together change his attitude?"

Booth took a deep breath and looked at me. I sat up straighter, understanding that he was going to explain. And that it wouldn't be simple.

Psychology again.

"He thinks he loves them, Bones. Lily got letters. The others; Sandra, Helen, Jeannie, they got roses, or chocolates, even though we can't prove he sent them. And then he kills because his love turns to hate the moment he feels betrayed. Maybe she's tired and her smile isn't as radiant as usual. Or she answers his good morning with a nod and not a sentence. Maybe she wears a ponytail and he likes her hair down. Or maybe her husband comes to say hi, and they kiss. I don't know. And it's disgusting, but his entire lunacy is built on an illusion of feelings. He thinks that what he feels is like what everyone else does. He thinks he understands relationships."

"So you made him relate with you?"

"Exactly."

I was very impressed.

"Bones… I'm going to write that the rain was the reason we didn't see Bram enter the building. Just so you know, in case someone asks…"

"What? You're going to blatantly lie to the FBI?"

"It's not… why do you have to say it like that? I have to lie."

"No you don't."

"Oh, I don't? What would you have me write, then? You'd prefer they just split us up, wouldn't you…?"

"Of course not!"

"Then what do you want me to write?"

I tried to find the words. I searched and searched… but I found nothing.

"What? No ideas, Bones? Should I write 'Agent was so overcome by the sound of Dr Brennan's breathing inside the confined space, the rise and fall of her chest that he couldn't help but….'"

"_No_." I cut him off before the finished the sentence. And I had to tell myself a couple of times that this was a good thing.

There was a terrible moment when he didn't speak, and neither did I, and I was breathing so my chest did rise and fall… until I remembered how to think and broke the silence.

"All right, I understand your reasoning. But… Bram saw us."

"Bram thinks we're a couple."

"The FBI doesn't. They think we lied to Bram." I said, willing him to understand.

There was a pause.

"Oh."

What if Bram told someone about us? He didn't know that the information was valuable to him because he thought the FBI was aware of our relationship. A small slip during a stakeout wasn't exactly bargaining or blackmail material.

But the possible severance of our partnership if anyone found out _was_. We weren't allowed to have a romantic relationship. It was counter productive, and in the field, it could become very dangerous.

"What do we do?" He asked, looking doubtful.

"The truth." I answered without hesitation. Truth was always the most important.

"No. The truth will get the same results than if Bram tells on us."

"Fine, then let's just _hope_ he won't."

"Don't use sarcasm, it sounds weird coming from you." I flinched. His words were sharp and they cut.

"Oh come on, Booth, we have to do something. Propose a solution."

"Let me think, okay?"

I let him.

"Got it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'll write that, to maintain the illusion we'd created, I kissed you."

"But I kissed you…" it had been so much more, the word fell short. "… before we had to make that up in the first place."

"I know. But they don't. I don't think Bram will be keen on the timing. And he doesn't know either."

Oh.

And now I understood.

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_**Reviewing will make Chapter 6 come faaaaster! And Chapter 6 is... ah, but you have to review and find out!**_

_**;)**_


	6. Chapter 6

**_Why isn't it Thursday yet? Why? _**_**WHY????!!!!**_

_**Hem. **_

_**Well, now that we've got THAT our of the way, I can say that, again, I don't own anything. Not even sanity.**_

_**Or Bones.**_

_**Sadly for all of us, because if I did.... MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**_

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**CHAPTER 6**

"Bones, have some pie."

"I'm not hungry."

"Is that because you just finished a salad, two rolls and a muffin?"

"Probably."

We were having dinner at the Diner. We were supposed to wait for Sweets for this, but we were hungry. So we hadn't.

"Just taste this. Please."

He held the fork toward me, then seemed to reconsider the action. It felt like we were cheating our own rules.

So I took it from his hand and I put the bite of hot, sweet pie in my mouth. It melted into my taste buds, dissolving into a spiral of pleasure and dopamine. I moaned in delight, eyes closed in an effort to concentrate as much neuron activity on my tongue as I could. This was beyond delicious. It was almost as good as Booth.

Wait.

This kind of thought had the habit of popping into my mind without my permission. But ever since yesterday I'd been feeling a growing tension in me which can only be properly illustrated with the simile of a coiled spring about to jolt free.

I'd spent the entire day working in Limbo with Angela doing facial reconstructions because the Bram case was the only one we had right now. And her incessant questions had left the spring grinding in annoyance. Although inanimate objects can't feel human emotion, of course. That was a metaphor... I think you understand.

Anyway, my unusually perceptive mind noted something was wrong with Booth. He hadn't said anything. Not the usual "Good, right Bones?" or "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?". Not even "One day I'll find the flavour you like."

I had decided to avoid direct eye contact with him as much as I could since yesterday, but this time was inevitable. Was he angry again? Had he left while I considered how toe curling the taste of this dessert was? Had he fallen asleep? Was he dead?

So I looked up.

And my quick brain registered the facts, processed them and decided the best course of action (to ensue the least damaging outcome) in about two seconds.

The best course of action was to leave, of course. Which I did, getting up abruptly and practically running away.

The least damaging outcome was me _not_ taking off a single piece of clothing.

The facts were these: Booth wanted me. I wanted him. Something had happened to make _both_ these statements (how did he _do_ it?) so obvious in his eyes that my bra seemed to want to unhook itself.

As I sprinted down the street my breath thundered in my ears. Why was he torturing me? We'd agreed on this. We'd decided never to let that mistake happen again. Sexual attraction wasn't enough to risk our jobs, to make us sloppy or unfocused. Booth couldn't know that what I felt went beyond bodily functions, but it was still cruel of him to make this so difficult.

We were so _good_ at what we did. So effective. Fearless. Strong.

United.

Well, not anymore.

Unity was out of the question. Or so I felt at this moment, heart pounding, lungs choking, blood fizzing. My rational side knew that these feelings, with no basis in fact, would change. Once my head metaphorically stopped trying to squeeze my own brain into a pulp, that is. But right now, I felt that I'd never be able to look into his eyes again without wanting him. Wanting him in many different ways, which confused me and made me lose my sense of right and wrong, like ascending a spiral staircase a metre in diameter.

I felt dizzy, and had to stop walking. I swayed where I stood, putting out a hand to steady myself against the wall of what looked like an abandoned warehouse.

A head rush can occur when a person stands too quickly without giving their body equilibrium time to adjust. It can lead to nausea, fainting, or momentary loss of coordination.

Spots danced before my eyes, and I stumbled whilst not moving at all. My brain noted that this feat was quite amazing on my part.

And then I simply fell.

Until he caught me, of course.

"Ugh. Why are you _everywhere_?"

"I'm sorry, Bones, I'll try and be nowhere next time."

"How do you do it? You're everywhere I look, and then even when you're not there you're still... there!" I'm going to assume that it goes without saying that I wasn't exactly on top form as I sprouted this nonsense.

"You see me when I'm not there?" his voice dripped with the sound of things left unsaid.

Unfortunately, my head was 'fuzzy' and all I felt was like punching him.

"Let me go."

"If I let you go you'll fall."

"No I won't."

Yes I would.

"Yes you will."

I groaned, feeling my head clear. As the spots disappeared from my vision, other things reappeared.

Like Booth's eyes. And his lips. And his general facial structure, inches from mine.

I straightened quickly and shoved him away. He was mean. So mean.

"Don't do that again."

Do what? Catch me so that I didn't sustain a cranial blow?

"Do… what?" he was panting slightly.

I wondered what I'd meant.

"I'm just... going to go home. Lie down, I think."

_"Lie down?"_

Oh no.

"Yes."

It was wrong, how perfectly he managed to twist everything I said into something decadent and wicked. This was bad. That little hesitating question he'd asked, as if to confirm a suspicion, felt like an omen. A bad, bad, bad omen.

"Bye Booth."

I waved as I began walking away, hoping to outrun my own urges. Again.

"You should take a shower before you lie down."

I stopped walking. Was he _kidding_ me?

"Excuse me?"

"Take a shower. Just... it's been a long day, and the hot water will help you relax. Tension leaves your body in a warm rush..."

"Booth." it didn't quite come out as sharp and reproachful as I thought. More like a lover's sigh. Damn him.

"Soap leaves your skin shining, almost like tiny diamonds..."

"No." I shook my head, trying to make his voice vanish. Trying to make the heat turn to cold. And the weakness in my knees to turn to steely strength. And the pulsing of my desire to disappear. Because with every beat of my heart it only felt like more.

"You'd taste clean if someone were to lick your throat..."

"_No_." as the word left my mouth I knew it didn't sound like a negative.

"You're wet, everywhere... relaxed, shining, clean and wet..."

"Stop it."

"If that someone were to bite, would you scream?"

"Booth, _please_..."

"In pain or in pleasure, Bones?"

"Stop it!"

I didn't run because he was faster, and my legs were locked so that I didn't fall. I could barely stand, let alone place one foot in front of the other.

But I would have. I like to think that if I'd been able to, I would have moved as fast as I could. What I guess I'll never know is in which direction.

"What?"

"I'm not... I can't believe you!"

Our eyes connected and he knew what this was doing to me. He didn't know on both levels, but he knew which one was winning now. There was a glint in his eyes, like evil.

"What is it, Bones? Am I bothering you?"

Evil. Bad, wrong, mean, wicked...

I trembled a little from not running to him and shutting him up with painfully heated passionate fury. It has been said that that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger.

I disagree, vehemently.

"Yes, you are bothering me. Cut it out."

"It's your fault."

The playful glint disappeared. There was no light in his eyes now. Only dark secrets.

"_What_?" I couldn't believe he had the nerve.

"It's your own damn fault, Bones! You're killing me here!"

"_I'm_...? _You're_ the one who...!"

"No, Bones. _You're_ the one." he spoke really softly, so I couldn't be sure, but it seemed like he'd ended that sentence rather abruptly.

At this point I realised he was whispering because we stood so close. Like opposing ions. Leaving us weak and at the mercy of whatever it was that stood between us and yet pulled us toward one another, inevitable, merciless.

Irresistible.

He put his hands on my shoulders and gently but firmly pushed me against the wall, his eyes digging into mine.

Who were we to try and fight it?

With a sigh of defeat, we both gave up at the same time. In the instant before our lips met, I had another, crystal clear vision. Would this one become true as well?

In my mind I was standing right at the edge of a precipice. If I looked up, I realised that I'd already fallen a long way, and that I actually stood on a ledge. If I looked down, I realised that the earth was so far I couldn't even see it.

Booth's lips touched mine, and I felt an invisible energy push me toward the edge.

I stumbled, tried to hold on, tried to stop this inevitable end.

But it was no use. That is the definition of inevitability. I fell over and the sound of the rushing air filled my ears. For some reason I didn't scream, because in my vision I knew I'd be safe.

I hate psychology.

And now another, more real sound brought me back to reality; the sound of my gasps for air as I pushed my body closer to Booth's, arching my spine to that my breasts rubbed against his chest. His growl of agreement reverberated through my body, and I held onto his shirt, my fingers like claws around the collar as my knees buckled.

Something had happened and he wasn't scared or regretful. At least not now. He would be, though. He'd be angry again, and sad and filled with self-deprecation _again_.

Without speaking a single word, he put his hands on my hips and slammed me against his. I groaned into his mouth, forgetting the concept "would be". _Was_. All that mattered now _was_ feeling exactly what he'd wanted me to feel; his length and his strength. Him. Booth, kissing me, Booth...

Then his lips left mine. I felt like someone had knocked the breath out of me. What was he doing? Didn't he understand? If I looked into his eyes it would all come back, everything that made the world around us, everything that made the reasons for us to stop!

But he knew what he was doing. Without looking into my eyes, he leaned down to kiss my neck, licking, gently biting, coaxing as many moans and soft screams from me as he could.

And he _could_.

Up until this moment, my hands hadn't been able to do anything but hold on. Now I raked them down his back, letting my fingers dig paths into his muscles so that he knew, but more than that, so that he _felt_ just how much he was affecting me.

Another growl, and he left my neck to devour my lips again. I felt powerless, and this wasn't something I was used to. I dominated. I controlled.

Not today. Not now. I was at his mercy.

"Hmh..."

"What?"

Still avoiding eye contact, he spoke against the curve of my neck, right at the hollow where my clavicle began. With every puff of his panting breaths, I felt goosebumps erupt on my skin.

"Your fault. All your fault..." He rocked his body against mine, and the friction had me trembling. I was going to come in the street. In the middle of an only _relatively_ empty road.

He was wrong. It wasn't my fault, _he'd_ started it. But if it kept him doing this to me, then:

"Yes."

"Driving me crazy with your ridiculous display...! Moaning in the Diner, Bones? I've told you what your voice does to me!"

"_Yes_."

"Bad Bones. Bad, bad... making me insane for you... making me want you like this... _so_ bad..."

"_Booth_." the word escaped my clamped lips like a sigh, once again inevitable. Unless he stopped pushing and moving and feeling I was going to...

"Sweets!"

"What?"

"Bones, Sweets! Run!"

He grabbed my hand and dragged me around the corner. I didn't even have time to check behind us. I was hollow. His body wasn't there anymore and I felt desperately alone.

With the cold came my rational side again.

We stood too close together, panting. And without asking permission he put his arms around me and gave me a strong, comforting hug. I melted against him, momentarily forgetting my desire and the buzzing in my head, forgetting the rules and the danger and what had almost happened if we'd been caught like this. I whimpered pathetically.  
And to my huge surprise, I felt a wet drop fall on my neck.

Booth was crying?

"Booth?"

I pushed away and looked at him. The darkness had passed. The evil glint was gone. All that was left was that look again... and although it only lasted a moment, my stomach twisted. He drank in my face, as if he was taking a breath before plunging back into dark oblivion. I felt like every detail was being catalogued, every minute inch scrutinised. I felt like I couldn't keep anything from that golden gaze, and like he worshipped every bit. It moved me like nothing had before, this strange wonder.

And then that was gone too.

This was when I decided that I would take care of him, no matter what happened. Booth had been strong for me for so long that I'd forgotten he wasn't made of stone. It was my turn to be hugged. To _help_.

The single tear was roughly brushed away, and he managed an actual, genuine smile. I couldn't help but mirror his expression, even though a bit of me wondered what we were smiling about.

"He was going for the diner. I forgot we'd said we'd meet him there."

I had too.

"If he'd seen..."

"I know. The end."

"Yes."

"That can't happen."

"No."

Silence.

"Bones, we have to..."

"I know. But this is something we've already decided. Let's just keep our own promise. We can do it, Booth. We're not adolescents."

"Yeah." The smiles we exchanged now were of mischeif, like we shared a joke no one else understood. I vowed to make him smile more. Lately, he seemed to forget how.

I felt buoyed by the fact that he stood over me, towering and strong and aroused and exuding sexual energy and _smiling_, and yet we managed to keep still, simply looking.

"Do you think we should go back to the diner? Pretend?"

"Nah. I don't feel like entertaining the kid right now. I should get home."

"Me too."

He stepped back, and I wrapped my jacket more tightly around myself. I'd driven here in my car, so I began walking back to it. "Bye, Booth."

"Bye."

I didn't hear his steps fade away.

"Bones?"

I turned, feeling exhausted yet electrically awake. I'd have to do something about that when I got home if I had any intention of sleeping.

"What?"

"I'm sorry. It wasn't just your fault."

"I know."

He nodded, and we began walking in opposite directions, moving further and further away...

.

.

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_**Okay, now say "painfully heated passionate fury" five times quickly!**_

_**Hehe, aren't I a tease?**_

_**Next chap may take a few more days. And seeing as I've been updating almost daily, you're not allowed to complain! ;) **_


	7. Chapter 7

**_What? I mean... WHAT?_**

_**Presidential farewell speech? WHAT ABOUT BONES! We want Bones! Does it look like I care about a goodbye speech, regardless of my political views? He HAD to pick that timeslot, didn't he? He HAD to pick that day!**_

_**I guess the overdose we'll get next thursday will compensate, but... I wanted Bones NOW!**_

_**...**_

_**Anyway, can I just say something. SPOILER FOR A PROMO CLIP OF DTITP, so skip to normal font right about NOW!**_

_**...**_

_**I said SPOILER!**_

_**...**_

_**How awesome is the scene in the trailer? "Are you always this spontaneous during sex?" rofl!!**_

_**...**_

_**End of spoiler.**_

_**And rant.**_

_**And I'm not attacking the president. Seriously. Just his terrible timing. hehe**_

. . . CHAPTER 7

"Bones. Wake up!"

Did he like this? I wondered if, deep down, he didn't _enjoy_ torturing me and (by the look on his face) torturing himself with these situations.

He came to my house.

He came to my house! And I'd been sleeping! And dreaming of him, of course. And I wasn't sleeping anymore, and he was there. Not kissing my neck.

Relax, Temperance. And don't forget to breathe.

I stumbled to the door and opened it a crack.  
"What are you doing?"

Perhaps that's not the most usual question to ask, but I was angry at him for making me dream.

"Bones, it's important."

His tone was a bucket of ice-cold water poured over my head. His eyes had admittedly flashed to my chest for a moment, but after that he looked a lot more like the serious Booth I'd met so long ago. Driven.

He only got like this when something very bad had happened.

"What's happened?"

"Let me in, it's a pretty long story."

I shifted uncomfortably. Did I tell him my legs were bare and that all I wore under that ample shirt was panties? A part of me ached to see his reaction, but I understood that this was serious. No time to experiment with pushing limits. I still owed him for last night.

"Can you wait a moment while I change into something decent?"

"Sure."

I couldn't help the slow smile stealing my lips as I walked to my bedroom. His voice had sounded two octaves higher than normal.

And then I mentally shook myself. All this being half-asleep business and Booth just... _existing_ when I woke up had left me quite confused.

Enough.

I hoped Frank Bram hadn't gotten away.

*

"Tell me what happened."

"Well... it's about the case, of course."

We sat at my dining room table. I'd put on a pair of jeans, but kept the large shirt. It felt comfortable and I was slightly cold.

"Yes. Is Bram still in custody?"

"No."

"_What_?"

The chair I'd been sitting on only moments ago crashed to the floor.

"Wait. Let me explain, okay?"

"Do you mean... _you let him go_? Booth, he was the prime suspect! What did he say? How could he possibly change your mind...?"

"Sit down, Bones. We let him go because we have another suspect." He didn't sound entirely convinced, and so I wasn't either. I reluctantly put the chair upright and sat.

"Say it, Booth. What's happened?"

"Look, it's like this. Margaret Stoker called us last night." My mind flashed to last night for a moment; hands and lips and frantic kisses and his words mixed with his breath on my neck, then snapped back to the present. "She sounded scared, but determined. She said her husband had called and said he'd escaped from prison."

"What? And you believed her?"

"He has. He's just disappeared. No malfunctioning equipment, no tricked cameras, no failure of the security system whatsoever... he simply wasn't there that morning. But that's not the point. Listen, her husband told her that he'd killed the four women, I quote '...who reminded me most of you, because I hate you and I want you to die, but you're not worth the effort of finding you, bitch. So I killed _them_.'"

"Where did you get this? His literal words?"

"She wrote down every word he said."

"Really?" This was unusual.

"She was told to do so. It's protocol, actually, with people in witness protection. They are told that if anyone calls with a threatening phone call, and the phone's not tapped, of course, write down everything they say word by word."

"Threatening? He said he'd kill her?"

"Actually... no. I mean, yes, but not exactly... What he told her..." Booth took a deep breath, as if trying to let me mentally prepare myself. But I'd seen so much pain already. Unimaginable atrocities committed in the name of good or bad, it didn't really matter why, only that they had happened. So whatever he said next, I was ready. I'd always be. This was part of the burden I carried every day.

A burden he seemed to _understand_, somehow.

"... he told her to kill her_self_, Bones."

I hadn't been expecting that.

"He what?"

"He told her to commit suicide, or he'd... and here's where it gets bad. Mrs Stoker refuses point blank to say what he'd threatened to do to her if she didn't listen to him. So we're afraid of what he told her he'd do, so bad that she suddenly wouldn't trust us anymore. She's terrified, Bones."

"You're watching her, right? She won't actually...?"

"No, of course not. I mean yes, we're watching her, no, she won't do anything."

I let this information settle on me heavily. Another weight added to anchor my resolve to figure this out.

"Bones, I think she's protecting someone. That's the only reason she'd do this."

"Who?"

"I don't know yet."

"But how does Frank Bram fit into all this? It seems a very, very strange coincidence that he knew one of the victims and Mrs Stoker. And the chocolates, flowers... all those other women, it had to be him! Every single one he claimed to love was killed. Violently, Booth; stab wounds, they..."

"Hey, I'm not happy about it either. It seems... well, impossible, actually. The odds are astronomical. I still think Bram should be the prime suspect. But there's an alternative explanation, and it makes perfect sense. You'll love it. I don't though. It feels... wrong."

"What is this... oh. I understand. You think he was being framed. That Kevin Stoker sent those flowers and those chocolates... you're right, it does make sense. If by coincidence Frank knew Lily and sent her the letter, and then he met Margaret Stoker and sent her letters too... well, it still feels like a leap. Although they live relatively close by, and changing his way of contacting them is weird… letters and roses are very different approaches... well, the evidence fits."

"Yeah, Bones, and the time line. Mr Stoker was put in prison a five months ago, and the three murders began nine months ago. One woman, one month. The fourth, Jeanie, is the question mark here. She was killed after Stoker went to prison, but even though her description fits the victim profile, the way she was killed is different. When Kevin Stoker was imprisoned, the murders ended. It has to be him. It makes perfect sense."

"Then why do you still look unconvinced?"

"I don't know. I hate coincidences."

"Me too." I pondered this brand new scenario. It did seem to fit, but something was strange. At the moment I couldn't say what, but I felt like Mr Stoker fit too well.  
What a strange thought. It's impossible for anything to fit too well, since that would tend toward perfection and therefore the adverb 'too', which has negative connotations, would be ill used. This thought was Booth's influence, no doubt.

The feeling of unease didn't vanish, however. Something was missing, a piece to make sense of it all. I thought about Jeanie Whitmore. She was the strange, ill-fitting puzzle piece. She wasn't stabbed to death like the other victims, she received a fatal head injury by a blunt object we hadn't been able to identify, although Hodgins said it was wood. She was forty, attractive, tall, a brunette, and had lived relatively near the other victims. It was too much of a coincidence. Yet she'd been killed after Kevin Stoker went to prison.

So many coincidences in one case… there had to be a scenario to explain them all. I'd never believed in coincidences. This wasn't the right scenario after all.

Today I'd perform an even more thorough, detailed exam of Jeanie's remains, see if I'd missed anything last time.  
"How did you say he escaped from prison? His trial began a week from now, he'd be heavily guarded. People don't just walk out of prison."

His eyes met mine and I knew, in a rare moment of intuition, that we were both thinking the same thing: no one walks out of prison unless you're Howard Epps. Epps was dead, however, and his story had ended. We'd moved on.

"He didn't. According to logs, he's still there. Except… well, he's not. Gone."

"Booth, that's impossible. There are records, cameras… cells are secure. He can't have simply disappeared."

"Bones, this happened two days ago. We're working on it, okay?"

I flinched. He'd been serious all morning, but not angry. Until now.

"What is it, Booth?" I sounded tired and exasperated, even to myself. He noticed my expression.

"Sorry. I'm just… this situation… it gets to me. I hate it." His eyes drilled into mine, but I didn't understand why. Did he think I wasn't worried about the case as well? _I_ wasn't snapping at him every five seconds.

"Me too. Frank just walking… we should talk to Mrs Stoker."

He laughed a short, cruel laugh and stood up.

"What?"

"Nothing, Bones. I'll meet you at the Jeffersonian. I think we should concentrate on Jeannie Whitmore right now. Either we eliminate her as possible fourth victim or we prove Stoker isn't the killer."

"Yes, that's what I thought."

He nodded and walked to the door.

"Bones."

"What?"

"That shirt…"

I looked down at it. Was something wrong? One button was undone, but that was it. I looked decent.

"… where did you get it?"

"I've slept in it for a couple of years now. I think it…" but talking about past lovers felt wrong. I tried to be brave and remind myself that _nothing_ tied me to Booth. "… I think maybe someone left it here. A man." I sounded idiotic.

Booth opened the door and walked outside. Then he turned to face me, leaning against the frame.

He smiled, and I slammed the door shut, panting.

I knew his reflexes would mean he'd avoid a broken nose. Even thought he'd deserve one.

"Looks nice!" he called from the hallway. I could tell that his eyes would be doing that thing where they shone with laughing secrets again. I leaned against the cold wood, wishing he'd just disappear. Trying not to picture his dark smile. Trying not to think of how much he enjoyed making me crazy for him.

Because his smile hadn't said he thought the shirt looked 'nice'. It said that, to his eyes…

… _I wasn't wearing any._

_._

_._

_._

**_If I do say so myself, I quite liked the end of this chapter. The last sentence had been begging me to be written for a while now, so I did._**

_**Aaaaaand look at how PRETTY that green button is! Oh, come on, we'll have to wait ANOTHER week for double trouble, I'll survive ONLY if you give me the great consolation of a review...**_

_**;)**_

_**Even to me I sound a BIT desperate.  
**_


	8. Chapter 8

**_People have been asking, so…_**

**_Okay, go to the spoilertv website and click on Bones. Then scroll down… down… and you'll find the spoiler clips of Double Trouble. This website is fantastic for info, the news is almost instantly updated (needless to say, I check it really often ;)_**

**_Reviews are the drug that keeps me through exam periods. Yes, I'm updating a fanfic during an exam period._**

**_Sue me._******

**_Or like Michael Scott would say, don't sue me, that's completely the opposite of what I was trying to say. Gotta love that show._**

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**CHAPTER 8**

"Mrs Stoker, you are doing him a favour by not telling us. You know this, don't you?"

"I'm sorry. I've already said that nothing in this world will make me say it. I'm sorry, Agent Booth."

I looked from behind the tinted glass, wishing Booth's mind was as easy to pull apart and then reassemble as 206 bones. After driving away by himself this morning, he'd called and asked if I wanted to be there during the interrogation of Margaret Stoker. I agreed, because I wanted to understand the woman.

And maybe because I wanted to prove to Booth how little his infuriating attitude this morning had affected me. I'd get to the lab after this was over.

Sweets was standing beside me, occasionally talking into the mic to give advice. Some of it was useful, other things Booth ignored.

"Why is it so important anyway? Shouldn't you be looking for him or something?"

"Mrs Stoker..."

"Be careful, Agent Booth. I have a feeling I know what you're about to say, and she could close up unless you do it right." Sweets didn't know Booth as well as he thought he did. Booth would get it right. He'd already known how delicate the situation was before Sweets had said anything.

Not for the first time, I asked myself why Booth let the doctor help us, when most of the time Booth didn't need his help.

"Mrs Stoker, we have to be able to predict what he'll do or how he'll act. And it's very dangerous, not knowing how he works. You ex husband is unknown to us. We need to _know_."

"Nice building up to it, but ease into the idea..."

"Sweets, I think Booth knows." I whispered. As I spoke, Booth's gaze flicked to the black screen I stood behind, then back down. For a moment I could have sworn he'd glanced at me.

But he couldn't see me.

"Mrs Stoker, we need to know the stakes."

Margaret simply looked at the table in front of her, not daring to meet Booth's eyes. I understood how she felt; afraid of being _seen_, dissected, of being discovered.

Of being caught.

"Booth, she's hiding something big. She's afraid of you... I don't think she'll tell you. Can I try? I think I understand." I whispered into the mic.

"We need to know what we're risking. You've already come to us... how will telling us this change anything? We can't help you properly unless you tell us how. What are we fighting against?"

Obviously he was either ignoring my comment or saving the information for later.

"Agent Booth..." she still hadn't looked at him. She knew this was the way to keep the secret.

I realised it was useless at the same time Booth did. This time he deliberately looked at me and Sweets, conceding defeat. We'd lost this one.

"... you'll just have to go in blind. I'm sorry."

*

"You didn't address the actual question, Agent Booth."

"Yeah, Sweets, because it would have been useless and she'd have clamed up, like you said. More than she already did, I mean. She won't tell us, but that's an answer in itself. I'm almost sure I know what Kevin Stoker has threatened her with."

"Yes, I agree."

The two annoying men walked a step in front of me, but I was having none of this. I grabbed Booth's arm and pulled him back.

"What? What has he threatened her with?"

"A person, Bones. He's going to hurt someone to get to her."

"Oh. So what was that 'actual question'?"

"The question is: Who is it? Who is the person Margaret Stoker would die for?"

The person she would die for.

Someone she loved, of course.

And then it hit me like a 1000 Newton force mass.

There were very few people I would die for. Die… actually die for them. And Booth made my list. Of course, but this I'd known before. Why had I realised only now that the list was made up of people I loved?

I applied the equivalences without thinking, because I was just so used to it. If X equals A and Y equals A… then X equals Y.

My mind was too tired, maybe, or I already felt that it was too late now to try and block this new leap before it had gripped my mind.

Had it been over two days, that feelings had evolved? Or had it always been like this, except I couldn't see or understand what it was?

This time the image illustrating my emotions was asphyxiating. I had just fallen into water and sank, deeper and deeper, unable to kick free or swim upward. My cries for Booth (not help, but _Booth_) became shining bubbles, merrily soaring away from me. My hair was a floating halo around my head, every inch of me shivering with the cold of realisation…

It was logical, of course. Explainable. We spent most of our time together. He was an attractive (the word fell far, far short of reality), strong, protective alpha male, he seemed an ideal candidate. I'd voiced this opinion before, once, when I was wondering why on earth someone would say "No" to him. God, had it begun then? Or maybe even before? Or had it progressed steadily after?

Sweets and Booth kept walking, arguing about something I didn't understand, oblivious to the fact that I was choking, _drowning_ in knowledge.

I was not in control anymore. Not of me, not of anything. I was swept away by the wave that was Booth and the complications living with us every day and surrounding our every move. I was not in control. I was part of something. Something that had gotten completely out of hand.

Something more powerful than rationality.

Could I fight this? I was strong, I'd fought before… but never an enemy like this one. I'd never had this force inside of me, this strange certainty that what I felt would never go away.

The sadness of it not being reciprocated was a pinprick of pain my cold body barely felt. I'd already known, after all.

For the second time I vowed that this didn't change anything. Nothing. I would still keep away from Booth, still avoid contact and we'd still be friends and partners. We still held. I would not crumble.

Only one thing was different now.

I wasn't sure about being able to smother love and make it disappear. I wasn't sure about anything anymore, except that it was there and didn't want to go away. Perhaps I would have to live with this knowledge while I talked to him. While I saw him…

While he existed in my world…?

"Bones?"

While he spoke…?

"Bones, are you okay?"

And breathed, and lived…?

"I'm fine."

He didn't believe me, but he knew we could talk later. He turned back to Sweets, who was looking from one to the other and seemed to be torn between worry and laughter.

I tried to calmly let the new information settle on my shoulders. It was heavier than I had expected. But it was part of me now. I'd have to learn to live with this new set of variables, just like I'd done before. I had a 'disturbingly steep learning curve', or so I'd been told. I would try.

"… still something nagging me." Booth was talking. My sharp senses captured every fluctuation in his timbre. My body remembered how, when we'd been touching, the rumble of his voice seemed to reverberate inside of me too.

My mind tried very hard not to.

"Yes. I want to know why Margaret Stoker still keeps her last name. She's divorced. Shouldn't she be Margaret Harris now?" Sweets asked.

"I've noticed that. I'm saving it for later."

"Later when, Agent Booth? I don't get her; strong and confident yet holds on to her stealing murderer husband's name? She actually introduces herself like that! It's just... so weird."

"Like I said, saving it for later. Now, me and Bones are going to go see the squint squad and get updates on the more detailed exam of the possible fourth victim's remains."

"Great, I'll see you tonight. Please remember this time, guys."

"Sure."

"We're sorry, Dr Sweets."

It was with a touch of discomfort that I noted I'd just lied.

I wasn't sorry at all.

*

"Bones, you look a bit pale."

"I'll be better." This was true, at least. Lying to him was not an option, he just knew.

We were in the elevator, going down to our respective cars. I felt surprisingly focused, as he stood beside me.

"Okay. I trust you."

He kept staring for a moment, then added in a hesitant tone:

"Do… would you mind if I hug you…?"

I looked at him in surprise. He'd never actually asked permission. Either he simply put his arms around me, or he _told_ me to let him, never _asked_ (not a habit I appreciated but then again, I could be slightly "bossy" as he put it).

"It would be helpful."

He didn't hesitate another second. Almost as if he'd been waiting to do this for a while, he quickly took a step toward me and roughtly put his arms around me, crushing me to his chest. Our hugs had never been like this before, usually he was gentle and calm and he let me come to him.

Now felt like he'd sensed I was drowning, and he held on to me for dear life.

"I hate to see you sad, Bones." He grumbled.

"I'm not sad." I spoke against the curve of his neck, and felt him shiver a little.

Oh.

This was true. I wasn't… I wasn't sad? Was it surprise, then, being chased away from my body by his warmth? Was is fear? A combination of both?

"Then… what? I can't stand it, not knowing what you're feeling. Usually I can tell, but now…"

"Booth, I'm okay."

And this was true too. Well, being sad or afraid or whatever it was in his arms never lasted.

He gripped tighter, breathing in. I felt a bit intoxicated by his smell and his presence.

So when motion of the elevator stopped and he didn't let go, neither could I.

And then the doors opened with a clink.

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_**Reviewwww…**__** I'm too tired to come up with a funny way of putting it so that maybe you'll be so good as to click click click? :D Review!**_

_**Well, review PLEASE**__**. **_

_**I didn't mean to sound**__** rude.**_

_;)_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Sorry guys, but this updating every day is totally over thanks to school and exams. If you want**__**, you can always secretly set my high school on fire during the night? ;) Not that that's something I've ever, EVER wished would happen, of course.**_

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**CHAPTER 9**

_And then the doors opened with a clink._

It was the ground floor, not the garage.

"So it's finally happened!"

A grinning Charlie was standing outside, and the stupid, ridiculous, unfair, untrue comment felt like a blow to the stomach.

"No it hasn't. Shut up, Charlie. I swear, if you sprout any more of this bullshit in my office again I'll fire you and then find you and punch you in the face until I feel better." Booth let me go and walked past his assistant with a look of hatred, so intense, Charlie ran inside the elevator.

"I'm sorry." The frightened man whispered as he passed me. Then he was gone, and so was my momentary peace.

"Booth… I think we should just leave separately. I'm sorry." I was too tired not to beg him to hug me again, or simply break down and cry like a child. I almost said that I couldn't stand it if he looked at me for another second, but that was breaking our promise.

He seemed torn between yelling 'No!' and doing as I said. A sigh escaped my lips, and this apparently decided him.

"Bones, come." He roughly grabbed my hand and crossed the lobby full of light and people and things happening.

As we stepped outside, the fresh morning air let me think a little more clearly, but then he snaked an arm around my waist and pushed me to his body again.

"Stop it, Booth." I feebly shoved at him, and he didn't budge.

"You need this. I don't know what's happened and you don't have to tell me, Bones, I understand that… but you need comfort and… familiar things, and I can be your familiar thing while we wait for that idiot to get to his office and the elevator to get back to us… and besides, I sort of need comfort too, even though when you add my need and your need the result isn't _more_ need but a big red sign saying 'STOP', but I will ignore it for a few moments because your need is more important. And I will pretend the big red sign says 'TEN SECONDS LEFT' instead, so I can hold you for another ten seconds. Just… ten more seconds of this, please. For both of us yet not _we_, for each individual instead of the whole. _You_ and _me_, not us."

It was one of the longest speeches he'd ever said to me. Not _the_ longest or the most eloquent, but it rang with something unsaid which made me shiver, and him crush me closer.

"No, Booth." My tone was colder than I'd meant. Probably because, to avoid emotion fuelling my voice, I'd left it blank and clear. Unfeeling.

So he let me go, and I'd never forget the expression on his face.

"It doesn't work like that. Ten seconds is too much." I explained, willing him to understand. "Five, four, three… even one is too much. I'm sorry, but I have to get to the lab and you shouldn't come. I'll call you and tell you my findings."

He looked at me like I'd just stabbed him. He didn't even say anything, just stared, hurt and breathless and worried.

"We decided, okay? We chose _this_, and in order for this to happen you need to give me space and back off a little, or it's not going to happen at all… and then… where would we be, Booth? What would happen if _this_ didn't happen!"

For the first time he didn't understand what I was saying. He didn't understand that I was asking because I wanted him to tell me. He didn't see that I actually wanted to know what would happen, because _what would happen_?

"Okay. I'm sorry."

His voice was flat and blank, and when he wordlessly took my hand and walked me down the steps and around a corner where no one would see us, I didn't say anything. When he stepped toward me and grabbed my hair and pulled it as he crushed his lips into mine, I let him. When he put his arms lower and pulled me up in the air so my feet didn't touch the ground, I let him. When our desperate bodies, craving contact and touch and arms and hands and _God_ he was everywhere I wanted him, became more excited than we could afford, I forgot how to think. One of my legs wound around him and I felt his reaction to this move against my thighs. It lasted exactly ten seconds.

It was his turn to pull away.

"Bones, I'm s-"

"Don't. Just go. Please, go!"

He gave me a last, swift kiss and left me stunned. I waited a few moments before following him back to the J. Edgar Hoover building, trying to remember how to breathe and think at the same time.

How long would it take him to take the elevator downstairs? Just in case I'd better sit down on these steps and try not to count the times he'd kissed me during the last three days. We weren't doing very well on following our decisions through, were we? Was one night out of control too much to ask? My mind, still drunk from Booth, celebrated the idea. One night and then it would all be over…? But who was I kidding. One night would only make things worse. It would only make me want more nights, and it would make him realise… he'd discover my newfound secret. I'd probably shout it out during climax… and what would he answer? 'I'm sorry'? Booth disliked giving in to his urges, he'd made that spectacularly clear, and yet he gave in too often, making me incapable of thinking straight. The fact that he didn't know I… _loved_ him didn't absolve his actions. Couldn't he control himself, dammit? Couldn't I?

"_I sort of need comfort too, even though when you add my need and your need the result isn't more need but a big red sign saying 'STOP'"_

A big red sign. It shouldn't be a sign. It should be a wall, because signs are too easy to ignore.

In an effort to rid myself of thoughts, I stood up and left my emotions on the floor. As I walked away I prayed that they didn't follow me, or at least that my work proved a good enough hiding place.

I never noticed that, at the top of the steps, he'd stopped to look at me for ten seconds before walking away.

*

"Bren, please tell me what happened. Why isn't Booth here?"

"I told you we've had problems. I can't work if he's here."

Angela sighed.

"I really wish you'd start acting like I'm you friend and tell me what's bothering you. When you're ready, I'm in my office. I already did Jeanie's facial reconstruction, so I'm relatively free."

As my friend left I couldn't help but whisper: "I thought they wouldn't find me, but they have."

"What? Who's found you?"

"Nothing. Just a silly… never mind."

She didn't look very happy as she strode away, but I decided I could talk to her later, although that would mean figuring out a way to dodge her questions for an hour.

The thought of one night wouldn't leave me alone. One night as a solution to all this built up energy… if it was unleashed for one night, would we be able to move on?

Sure, move on as healthily and professionally as we were doing now, right?

Ridiculous.

But the thought just wouldn't go away.

I bent back to examine Jeanie's remains and finally Booth left my head alone. Jeanie was there, with her smile Angela had drawn so well, and her athletic build I could see even though muscle was gone by now. She'd loved swimming as a teenager but had to stop around her twenties, probably because her university took up too much time. That must mean she took her studies seriously. They had paid off, because she'd been a very good doctor, or so her co-workers had said.

I squinted at the head wound. It was clean by now, yet still made it very difficult to identify the exact wooden object that had struck her. Possibly bat shaped... but smaller? And not a round cirumference, it seemed spherical but irregular, with more force on the left side than the right, although it wasn't a hammer or any similar object...

The only other anomaly we'd found a week ago had been a blood sample on the clothes that didn't belong to her. It was a young girl who Jeannie Whitmore had treated for a broken wrist, Anne something. Which meant dead end, because the young girl had remembered staining the doctor's pants when Booth had called her.

I held up the cranium, thinking.

Did Jeanie hold a clue within her bones? Could she save a life if I figured out how hers had ended?

We would need something else to go on, or the person Margaret Stoker loved would die.

*

_Not very far from where I stood, a woman spoke on a pa__yphone, clutching the receiver so tightly her knuckles looked white._

"_Please…"_

"_If you don't get them to believe you, I'll kill her. You know I will."_

"_Please, give me a few days…"_

"_They'll find out soon. You must lie until you can't remember who you are. You must feel what you say until you yourself doubt that it isn't true. Be an actress, honey." There was a dark chuckle. "You were pretty good at it when you told me you loved me for sixteen years, weren't you?"_

_The woman felt a tear trickle down her cheek and she fought not to sob._

"_I promise… I'll do whatever you want… when should I do it? How will I know what they find out?"_

_But the other person had hung up. And anyway, we'd call her in two hours, because as she slammed the phone down I found a clue… one that would change everything._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_._

_**Two days. TWO DAYS.**_

_**That is all I'm going to say.**_

_**No, I'm not going to ask you to review. I'm above all that petty 'author needing to hear assurance of her work' thing…  
REALLY.**_

_**;)**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Don't get used to it ;) This chapter just spilled out of my mind and onto the keyboard.**_

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**CHAPTER 10**

_We would need something else to go on, or the person Margaret Stoker loved would die._

I worked all evening. When I arrived at work after my little crisis I hadn't eaten lunch, but I'd decided to have a decent dinner at least. Now hunger was the last thing on my mind.

I tried to picture the weapon that could have done this kind of damage. Blunt but rounded, with more force on one side… wood…

A tree branch was out of the question. There weren't large splinters; Hodgins had found minute traces… so polished wood, or perhaps…?

And suddenly I knew. It was, frankly, quite embarassing that I hadn't realised it before.

The handle of a kitchen knife made of wood.

We'd have to run a few scenarios with Angela, because the force enough to cause that many fractures and actually kill was oddly strong, but it fit perfectly with the approximate shape and pattern of microfractures.

So it was the same killer. Unless this was yet another coincidence and this woman who looked like a victim and fit the profile was killed by a knife _like the other three_…

It was the same killer.

Kevin Stoker couldn't have done it.

My phone rang, making me jump. I quickly snapped my golves off and took it.

"Brennan."

"_You forgot to check your caller ID, I bet. That's why you picked up, isn't it, Bones? You didn't know it was me."_

I froze. His familiar voice sounded tense.

"You're right." Lying to him was never an option. "What is it, Booth?"

He chuckled. "_That's my Bones. Always direct and to the point_."

"What is it? I've just discovered something important, I need to get back to work."

"_What?"_

"Kevin Stoker didn't kill Jeannie Whitmore. She was killed by the same person that killed Lily Sanders, Sandra Llevot and Helen Evans."

"_The same person?"_

"Well, a knife was used… unless this is also a _coincidence_…"

"_Same weapon doesn't mean same person, Bones. Someone could have __got hold of the knife and used it to try and get Kevin Stoker another trial."_

"Oh."

"_But it's a good clue. Sorry I distracted you, I'll call later."_

"It's okay, just tell me now…"

"_No. Later__. Keep working. Bye, Bones."_

I hung up and told an intern walking past me to get Hodgins. Then I went to get Angela, we needed to run a simulation through the Angelator.

*

"Hey Dr B, I heard you wanted to talk to me?"

I paused at the door to Angela's office. She didn't even look up, bent over her computer as she was.

"Yes, Hodgins, stop trying to find what uses the treated wood has. Narrow the search to knife handles."

"Knife handles?"

"Yes, find me the knife with a handle made of that kind of wood."

"Usually the alleged 'wood' is a synthetic…"

"Find me one that isn't."

I opened the door to Angela's office and went inside.

"Angela."

She looked up, as if waking.

"Sweetie… are you ready to talk?"

"What..? No, it's not that. I need help with the case."

"Of course you do."

"What's wrong, Angela?"

"Let's go. I'll tell you about it when I know you'll actually listen."

I felt hurt by this comment, but realised my mind was too focused on the case right now (and on decidedly _not_ thinking of Booth).

So what she said made sense.

*

"I concur. This is certainly possible, as long as it was one blow."

"Definitely. He could do it in one strong motion."

We both looked up at the sequence between us, of Jeanie tripping an falling to the floor. And then dark figure behind her lifting a knife by the blade. From his height the man brought the knife down, and with the momentum of his whole body weight he was able to fracture the skull the way it was.

"He'd have scars on his hands, right?"

"Not necessarily, Ange. If he wore leather gloves, the knife might not have cut him."

My phone rang again. I picked it up still looking at Angela… her neck ligaments looked tense, something must be wrong.

"Brennan."

"_I'm outside the Jeffersonian. Come talk to me for a moment."  
_"What?"

"_Bones, we need to talk. Just talk, to clear the air and make a decision."_

One night… the words sang to me.

No, Temperance.

NO.

"Can't we just talk on the phone? I'm in the middle of Jeanie Whitmore's murder scenario, you know."

"_She's not going anywhere, Bones.__" _For the first time his voice softened with the respect for the deceased._ "This is important."_

I hesitated.

"_It's about work_." He said finally, sensing the reason behind my reluctance.

"Fine, give me five minues."

In three I was outside. Booth stood with his back to me, staring proudly at the sunset, as though he was defying the light itself.

"Booth, hi."

"Hey." He took a deep breath. "We need to get this over with. No more slips, we're adults, I can't handle any more lapses. No more."

"Okay. I agree."

"Great."

"Fine."

"Yeah."

We stared at each other for a moment, and maybe I imagined the way his eyes flickered. Was he remembering every lapse like I was?

"You said this was about work, Booth?"

"Yes. Jeanie, Helen, Sandra, Lily… Margaret. They deserve our hundred percent. One hundred, not ninety nine. That's why no more… uh, lack of discipline on my part. I can control myself. What I can't do is live with another almost. I'm sorry that I've been kind of a jerk with this but that all ends now. I _will_ control myself."

I nodded, fighting the lump in my throat.

"I suppose we should just admit that we are attracted to each other, which is perfectly normal, and that it doesn't mean we need to be…" skip that word, Temperance! "… it just means we're friends and colleagues."

"Yeah."

"Partners."

"Yes. I'm very attracted to you. It's distracting when I let myself…" he skipped a word too. "… but the fact that you're so beautiful, it's got to me before, the pie…" he shuddered. "And in the car, with the sound of your breath so loud and I felt like I could just reach out and kiss you… has it ever happened to you, when you concentrate on one thing and suddenly it seems like the loudest noise? A bubble popping sounds like thunder. Like that."

I nodded, unable to speak normally just yet. I hated the way he misinterpreted me. I hadn't meant he should tell me _how_ attracted to me he was. That only made it harder!

Great. Fantastic with the word choice today, Tempe.

Superb.

"Just try and be yourself, and I'll hold my end of the deal. I have to admit that now we can talk about it I feel a bit better." He didn't sound like he felt better. Didn't look like it either. "I've been… feeling this for a while, truth be told. But look, Bones, you're right, we're friends, and I'm glad we'll stay that way."

He spoke like overcoming our fatal electric field was easy. I did too, actually. Like we could simply look away and it would go. But electromagnetic forces can work for centuries.

Just look at how long gravity's been around.

"Bones?"

"Yes. I competely agree."

We shared another one of the true smiles which had become very rare between us.

Oh, how very _adult_ we felt then. So confident, so mature… so responsible. We were doing the right thing, and we were going to succeed because it was _right_. We were brave and powerful and we were united again (although only in the narrow, separate way).

"Bones…" the smile stayed in place, but it was a different kind of smile. "I wanted to ask you… I value you as a friend. I admire you, your talents, your smarts. But could I ask you something?"

"That depends, Booth."

"Really?"

"Yes."  
"Could we have a last kiss? Like… goodbye?" his tone was strange. Not solemn, on the contrary, kind of playful, but also with a hint of doubt.

I nodded gravely, considering this. He blocked the sun with his tall build, and the red light shining around him was almost holy. The colours of the sky painted my feelings, splattered in red, purple, orange and blue.

He was asking a lot of me, even though he didn't know. Of course I would let him because I was helplessly lost and addicted to his taste, by now. But it cost me. This last one cost me something.

He moved toward me and surrounded my waist with his arms. For a moment it felt like one of our hugs, and then he tilted his head to mine and our lips touched.

The contact was feather-light. Soft, innocent, like a goodbye.

During the ten seconds it lasted he stole something. I can't describe what it was: not a part of me, because I would never be split by anything. I was always a whole, but he didn't steal me entirely either. So what was it that had been there before he kissed me and wasn't there anymore after?

My hands rested on his chest, his around my waist and still our lips barely grazed. It wasn't so much about the kiss, it was about the closeness and the contact and that indescribable something being stolen from me as the cruel coutdown kept ticking…

Three, two, one…

End.

He took a step back as did I, and we blinked. The light had gone from the world now that we were apart. How perfect.

The sun had set.

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_**It begins with an R.**_

_**After that, an E.**_

_**As long as you like it**_

_**Please, tell me!**_

_**.**_

_**After the E, a V.**_

_**After the V, an I**_

_**Because Booth is good**_

_**at "seduction by pie"**_

_**.**_

_**Another E is here**_

_**'Cause I love that letter**_

_**Tomorrow is Thursday**_

_**What could be better?**_

**.**

_**And finally, W**_

_**Because we all love bones**_

_**Tomorrow is Thursday**_

_**And we want Booth clones!**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Thanks so much for the reviews! I just wanted to thank PIEMANIA (since I can't write a review reply for her) because she compared me with Shakespeare. And no matter how **__**awesomely inaccurate the comparison is, it's flattering. *blushes***_

_**Enjoy! (and if you do, tell me about it!)**_

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**CHAPTER 11**

_The sun had set._

"We should go inside."

"Yes."

I turned and entered the emptying building, and felt a stab of sorrow because it had been a lie. All our assurance that everything would be fine, that it would go back to normal. Whatever the hell normal was.

But it wouldn't be the same.

I knew this suddenly and with conviction because his hand never touched the small of my back again.

*

"Dr Brennan!"

The moment I was in sight Cam _ran_ toward me across the busy platform, looking like she'd just seen a ghost. Which is impossible, since ectoplasm…

But I suppose you know this.

"What is it, Cam?"  
"I've just discovered who we're trying to save!" she looked from me to Booth, her expression flickering to confusion for a moment before settling on a blend between excitement and dread.

"What?"

"I was thinking… revising my notes on the case, Jeanie Whitmore."

"Thank you, I really wanted you to double check everything…"

"Yes, well it got me thinking. Something is strange about the blood we found on her pant leg."

"What? Why? We already matched it to the patient's blood sample the hospital gave us…"

"Bones, wait." His hand brushed my arm, I felt it, light as a feather, and then it was gone and he regretted reaching out to touch me. "Let her explain."  
"It's strange that blood would get on her clothes, don't you think? A doctor would be wearing a white coat over her normal wear, or scrubs. And even if the stain got there, it would be advisable to immediately clean it off, or at least change clothes when she got home before going to walk her dog."

I pondered this new development.

"Yes, it's alarming."

"Dr Brennan… could Jeanie have got the blood on her pants because she hurt her killer?"

I sensed that she was building up to a truth that would change everything.

"There were no signs of that; no skin on her fingernails, not a trace of DNA that wasn't hers except the blood. Are you suggesting the teenage girl killed a forty year old doctor, the doctor trying to _help_ her? Moreover, a woman who fits the victim profile and was killed exactly a month after Helen Evans, following the pattern of a serial killer? The odds, Dr Saroyan… the girl's arm was broken, or so she said. Is that a lie too?"

"You don't understand, Dr Brennan. I'm suggesting the teenage girl is a potential fifth victim."

"What? We spoke to her on the phone a week ago…"

"What does that mean? He could have let her speak, controlled her. It doesn't feel right, he's got her, she's the one who'll die unless…"

"But it's conjecture without basis in fact. A teenage girl wouldn't fit the profile, why would she be a victim?"

"Because I've just discovered something."

"What, Cam?" Booth asked, his tone impatient. My feelings exactly.

"I compared the girl's blood to Mrs Stoker's. Call it a hunch."

"A _hunch_?"

"Listen to me! I compared the blood and there were too many matches… that girl, the patient who we spoke to a week ago… she's Margaret and Kevin Stoker's _daughter_!"

The silence which followed this statement could have been hurled to the floor and shattered into little shards of silence.

"She's _what_?" Booth was the first to recover.

"Daughter. No doubt about it."

"But Mrs Stoker didn't have a daughter! I never saw, no records! … Oh _shit_."

"What? What is it Booth?"

"Mrs Stoker was in Witness Protection, right? I'll bet you anything her daughter was too. I'll bet you her file is buried deep, so that no one can find her. What was the girl's name? Do you remember?"

"Anne. Anne… something." Cam said.

"Anne Harris! Her name was Anne Harris!" I said suddenly, struck by the memory.

"Great, I'm going to make some calls. Why did no one tell me Anne Stoker has been kidnapped!" and he was gone.

*

It was a long hour until Booth came back with information. I asked Cam to tell me where the blood came from; arm, leg, head, where, and then had a long and frustrating conversation with Angela about which scenario would explain how the blood could have gotten on Jeanie.

We couldn't come up with a single plausible sequence of events. Jeanie Whitmore was killed four months ago, a month after Kevin Stoker went to prison. Anne Stoker was staying in a safe house during that time, protected with a new identity; that of Anne Harris.

The lack of particulates relating to Anne suggested the blood had dripped, because there were no fibres of other clothing _on_ or _around_ the stain, not even dirt, skin or a hair. But how on earth? And if Anne Stoker had seen or been near a dead body wouldn't she have said something? Was she in on it? What had happened during the four months of separation between the last death and Anne's kidnap?

Nothing made any sense.

So when Booth finally came running toward my office, I exhaled a sigh of relief.

"What's happened?"

"It was Anne… I know everything now. I was kind of pissed, yelled at them until they told me what the hell's going on… it was Anne. _Anne_ spied on her father when he met with Lucien Bohnn, do you know…?"

"Mob?"

"Yes, but a slippery fish, and not a particularly big one."

"Wait. The reason Margaret Stoker was in witness protection was that she'd testify against Bohnn and her husband?"

"Yes, but it was Anne who _really_ saw what happened."

"Then…?"

"Wait, just listen. We didn't have Bohnn on anything until Margaret Stoker said she'd testify that she'd seen and overheard what happened in the meeting… she lied to everyone to protect her daughter. She said it was _her_, not Anne. Her only demands were that Anne be given a new identity, and lived away from her mother, for safety. Everyone agreed to the conditions because Bohnn was worth the effort, he has connections, see?"

"Booth, slow down." Angela said, walking through the door. "Anne saw her father meet with this mob guy? Margaret said _she_ did… so how do we know she's lying?"

"Has anyone talked to Mrs Stoker about this?" I asked.

"Everyone calm down." He took a deep breath and turned to look at Angela. "We did talk to her. One of my guys just had a very interesting conversation where and she admitted to lying about seeing her husband."

"So… why is he doing it?"

Booth and I exchanged a glance, and for a moment I forgot what I was going to say, because Booth was looking at me and the way his eyes glimmered in the crisp light scrambled my thoughts.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" he said, wrenching his gaze away from me. "Kevin kidnapped his own daughter and is threatening Margaret with hurting her child so that Margaret won't testify. Anne disappeared two weeks ago. So when we talked to her, she was already being held captive. Meaning Stoker has an accomplice, the same one who killed Jeanie Whitmore."

I went cold, thinking about the frightened young girl, terrified somewhere, being threatened by an accomplice of her father's. Kevin Stoker escaped from prison three days ago. They were probably reunited by now.

"Did no one tell Margaret Stoker her daughter had disappeared?"

"Ten days till the trial. They were still debating whether they should tell her or not by the time Stoker called his ex-wife and told her himself."  
I looked at Booth again, and he gave me a small smile, which I returned. Finally things began making sense. Even though we could hate what was happening, we could know _why_ it was happening.

"That makes absolutely no sense."

"What?"

"What do you mean, Angela?"

Why? Why couldn't one simple thing be _right_?

"He's kidnapped his own daughter? Unlikely. And also, why on earth would he escape prison and then start making phone calls? Sloppy, and doesn't sound like him. Besides… _he escaped from prison_. Do you think he cares about a trial right now? He's already out, and if they catch him with this there will be a whole bigger list of charges against him!"

I was impressed. As was Booth, who said so.

"I'm impressed, Angela."

"You pick up stuff, working with geniuses."

She smiled and walked away.  
"I'm going to go shower now. The sex you two are radiating is making me feel dirty."

And with this she left us, jaws (metaphorically) hitting the ground in unison.

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_***Dances caught in a whirwind of post double dose of Bones eps HAPPINESS***_

_**Reviewwww!**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Helloo**__**! The post-Bones double ep overdose euphoria has now diminished, and I am craving another dose. Which is why I wrote this… like I did. You'll see ;)**_

_**If anyone owns a time-travel device of ANY kind, please contact me. Thank you very much.**_

_**Unfortunately, I **_**don't**_** own a time-travel device. Nor do I own Bones. So there.**_

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**CHAPTER 12**

"_I'm going to go shower now. The sex you two are radiating is making me feel dirty."_

_And with this she left us, jaws (metaphorically) hitting the ground in unison._

I hadn't realised she was that angry. Angela could be very blunt sometimes, and if I frustrated her she would occasionally lose control and yell the truth at me without letting me realise it by myself.

But this time was different. Something bad must have happened. I felt oddly guilty; after all, she hadn't told me anything was wrong, and assuming I would find out by myself was irrational. But nevertheless I should have paid more attention.

"Uh, Bones…"

It was so fragile, this thing Booth and I had between us. So breakable, the momentary peace. Why did she have to take it and smash it so quickly?

"Bones, hello?"

Could such an intense physical bond really pull two people together until everything else was destroyed? I had never been a fan of dramatic scenes, or of exaggeration of circumstances. Even when I wrote, embellishing truths felt like lying.

But Booth and I…

It broke me a little, knowing that I… _loved_ him.

"Bones."

He stood right in front of me, waving his hand before my eyes. Without me asking it to, my brain measured the approximate distance between our lips; fourteen to fifteen centimetres.

"What?"

"You blacked out there for a minute, Bones."

"Oh. Sorry, I was thinking."

"Yeah, God knows you don't do that enough."

He chuckled and leaned in, still smiling, to kiss my lips like we did it everyday.

I froze.

"What-?"

He immediately pulled away, but instead of giving me an opportunity to breathe and think like a normal, rational human being, he put his hands on my arms and rested his chin on my shoulder. As though he was so unbearably tired he had no lean on me.

A rush of air tasting of him sounded as loud as a storm by my ear.

"Sorry, I kind of wasn't thinking Bones…"

"I can see that."

"Yeah, stupid, wasn't it? Sorry. Wow."

I couldn't see his expression, because his face was right beside mine, and he whispered without turning to look at me. Somehow I knew his eyes would be doing that thing where they inexplicably swallowed light and didn't reflect it.

"It's okay, Booth."

He didn't move away even though, in my head, I screamed at him to let me try and gain a semblance of control. I could feel his muscles through his shirt, could hear every throb of his pulse as though it was my own. Every beat of his heart that was alive and pumping oxygenated blood to his organs and made Booth… he would never know how much I loved his heart for keeping him alive.

And for not failing me when I thought the anger would tear me in two. When I had to calculate my every move so as not to explode and hurt anyone with the force of what was packed inside my body. When I had thought his heart was silent forever.

"Booth, please." I breathed, hoping to convey my thoughts through tone and not have to actually say the words.

He only dug his fingers tighter around my arms, adding desire for more pressure, and not less.

I sighed, and pulled him gently but firmly away. "Enough."

For a moment he let the hurt and rejection show in his expression, but then it was gone.

"We should talk to Margaret Stoker ourselves. I want to hear what the hell she was thinking, not telling us her daughter had been captured. He probably threatened her…"

"Wait, what about Frank Bram? Is he out of the image?"

"Out of the _picture_, Bones. Picture."

"Is he?"

"No, not yet. Like I said, I hate coincidences."

*

The car ride was bad.

Very, very bad.

For one thing, it was the first time we were together, alone in the same car since our first little slip. I hadn't really noticed until now how loud sounds are inside a confined space. This is quite obviously based on phonology; sound waves rebound on the walls, creating the illusion of more noise. However, it wasn't exactly the _sound_ Booth's eyes made as it was their existence.

The other thing was… well, night time isn't really like a great big sign saying 'STOP', and I could remember, a little too easily, every detail of what had happened, and how his kiss was like lightning but his touch like thunder.

My mind proved enough of a stimulus for my body, apparently, because the familiar ache demanded Booth all over me. Well, it would have to get used to being told 'No'.

If only the humming would stop. Like vibration deep inside me, calling out to him, beckoning, enticing… flirting with him, like something separate from me that wanted Booth and didn't care what _I_ thought…

If only he didn't glance at me every ten seconds with a flash of that look of hunger in his eye… hunger for _me_, that mimicked my own crazy feelings. I couldn't help but notice the straining fabric in his pants, which really made everything worse.

If only.

"That's _enough_, Bones."

"Excuse me?"

Even though he tried to fight it, his eyes kept flashing, now with hunger, now with anger… just like they had before. The day we sat exactly like we did now.

"Stop that."  
"What, Booth…?" The breathing thing again?

"The look on your face, Bones… my God… I don't want to crash this car!"

Suddenly the heat was replaced by another kind of fire. I was furious. Did it always have to be him? _Bones stop this, Bones don't do that, you're killing me, Bones, kiss me, Bones… just another ten seconds, Bones…_

"You know what? Stop the car, breathe for a while and then get back in. We'll get to the Hoover building in another five minutes, and we'll forget this ridiculous discussion!"

"Forget?" my anger flinched for a moment at his tone. He spoke lightly, and he even laughed, but something must be wrong. "Sure, I'll forget, Bones. I'll compartmentalise, deal with the issue and then, quite simply, _forget_. It's that easy, of course."

He slammed on the breaks and parked in a sunlit street. Then he got out of the car.

"Booth." Was it anger, that made me say what I did then? Or… love? Or just intense biological response to his own arousal? "Maybe it's counter productive for our cases if we are distracted like this."

"Really? Gee, I hadn't thought of that, Bones."  
"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Yes!"

"Have you understood what I'm suggesting or will I have to say it?" I felt a bit more like myself as I said this. A bit more like my old self, anyway. Lately, it was difficult to remember the feeling of absolute certainty and security I used to have.

He actually had to _lean on the car door_. I bit my lip, which made him throw his hands in the air, as though asking the sky why I was doing this.

"Yeah, I think I just did."

"Perhaps it will bring the necessary release. Once we are satisfied…" we both flinched at the same time, and this action had us smiling widely at the other. Was it a mistake, this idea? Booth was my friend…

As I smiled, however, something a little more than friendly affection made me thrill at this special moment. So I plunged on. "… we may be able to concentrate again. I mean, this is all… biological…" it wasn't exactly a question, but he answered all the same.

"Of course. I value our friendship, Bones, more than anything."

"Me too."

He smiled again, although not like before. Now it was a melancholy, sad smirk.

"So you agree?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't. I understand the way you reason stuff, Bones, but I don't share your opinion in this matter. You should remember that."

How could I forget?

"That's true." Frustration had me rolling my eyes again.

"Sorry."

I raised my eyebrows. "Don't apologise. It's your loss."

For a strange moment, he simple gaped, as though he couldn't believe I'd just said that.

I couldn't either.

But then he did something completely unexpected. He laughed. He actually, genuinely laughed and shook his head at me. As he entered the car again, I grinned, feeling as surprised as he looked, and somehow…

… thrilled that I still had the ability to make him laugh.

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_**A bit of fluff there for you, mixed in with the angsty stuff. How was it? I'm not sure how I feel about the fluff…**__** tell me what you thought about the fluff, okay? Review the fluff, fluff the fluff.**_

_**The word "fluff" is kind of cute, isn't it?**_

_**A bit like Booth wearing nothing but ice cream. But slightly different.**_

_**;)**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Thanks so much for the support and reviews guys, you are amazing! I know it always sounds the same, but really, you are! I'm going to try and reply or say something to everyone, but if I haven't yet, I'm sorry, work is being, well, THERE, so I can't pay as much attention as I wish I could.**_

_**Anyway, on with the story!**_

_**I don't own a single Bone.**_

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**CHAPTER 13**

The silence in the room could be felt from outside. I held my breath, wondering what Booth would do now. Margaret Stoker looked terrible: tired, no make-up and… old. No longer the beautiful aristocrat she'd appeared before.

I watched through the glass as he just looked at her, not saying anything. She avoided his eyes, and because of this I guessed she still hid something. If you had something to hide you didn't stare into Booth's eyes. They stole things.

They stole secrets.

Finally, with a sharp finality, he spoke one word.

"Anne."

She crumpled. I saw, transfixed, every tiny marker signalling the change: shoulders drooping, eyes fluttering shut, breath leaving her body in a rush of exhaustion. When did this woman sleep? Could she, knowing her daughter was at the mercy of her dangerous ex-husband and possibly another man she didn't even know?

"Please… please find her. Just stop wasting your time asking me questions and _find her_."

"Anne is afraid, Margaret."

She flinched, a spasm-like tremor making her whole body shudder. I placed a hand on the glass involuntarily, almost instinctively. As if trying to convey strength.

I watched this strong, dignified woman reduced to shaking in terror, and I felt all my problems shrink until the shadow of fear surrounding _hers_ engulfed them. Until my worries and regrets became invisible, not to be seen again while the darkness remained.

"Anne can't understand why her dad would hurt her, Margaret."

I couldn't see Booth's eyes, but I knew what would be in them as he said these words.

"There's this other man she doesn't know, the one who kidnapped her from her safe-house more than a week ago. She hears them talking about women… four women, dead… and about _you_, Margaret. They want to hurt you, and she can't stand that. She's afraid for herself, sure, but more than that, her fear that they might hurt you is overwhelming. They don't listen to her when she pleads for your life, though. They keep her locked in a room where they don't have to stare into her beautiful blue eyes. Because she has her father's eyes, doesn't she? With those same, pretty eyes she that saw the body… it was so long ago, Margaret, five months, but she _remembers_."

"Stop it. Please stop."

"She can still smell the rotting flesh and hear the drip as her own blood mixes with the other woman's. Even though it was so long ago. How can you know this and still not want to help us?" he spoke with disbelief, indignant. I remembered Parker and my fingers pressed closer to the glass, as if trying to take away some of the pain inside that black room. He didn't understand this woman, whose agony I saw as plain as the structure of her bones. He was stupefied as to how she could simply sit there and not tell us anything else about her telephone call, about Mr Stoker or Frank Bram, about the last five months… all the details that would help us save her child.

For once, Booth's feelings were as clear to me as my own. Because they were the same.

"Agent Booth, I am done talking to you. Finished." Her words were measured, like mine sometimes were when I felt tense. Another sign of secrets, of lies. "I have nothing more to say, nothing more that will help you find my daughter. Trust this and…"

"How do you know what details are important? Are you the one who decides how we investigate your daughter's kidnapping? Are you a trained Agent, Mrs Stoker?"

"Agent Booth…"

"You're not! So leave the work to us and let us do it!"

"I said _no_! Nothing more! I've got nothing more!"

"Has Frank Bram tried to contact you?"

Silence. Did this mean yes? Booth usually said that silence meant yes, but I could never be sure. He was the one who always knew.

"Do you believe your husband is capable of murder?"

More silence. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she bit her lip and said nothing. Why? Why was she doing this?

"Where would he take her?"

What did he sound like when he called you?"

How long did it take till you realised Frank Bram had deluded himself into loving you?"

Did Bram talk to you, try and seduce you in any way?"

Did he ever pay attention to Anne?"

What did your husband sound like when he called you from prison, before he escaped?"

Did he ever talk about your daughter?"

Who were his closest friends? The ones suspected of also working with Bohnn?"

"I told you…" her voice was a charged whisper, and it shook with anger and tears. Both my hands pushed the pane standing between me and him, trying to protect his thoughts from such incredible fury. Booth got hurt when people said things in the tone Margaret Stoker was using now. "I _told_ you, Agent Booth. _I. Don't. Know_."

And he stood up and left, slamming the black door behind him.

*

"Booth!" I immediately opened the door but he'd been about to do the same. I ran right into him, and for a confusing instant he was everywhere, like when he hugged me and he became that '_everything'_ people are so fond of mentioning.

I took a step back against the wall, and he moved with me, still caught in the electromagnetic field, not strong enough to escape it yet.

"What is it?"

I feared falling back into our mad little cycle, but no hint of desire shone in his eyes now. Only weariness.

I tried not to ask myself whether I felt disappointed or relieved.

"I just don't want you to feel bad." I said quickly.

"Oh." He smiled a grim smile. "Look at you, being all human and worrying about me, Bones."

I returned the grimace and put a hand on his arm, playing it safe: the gesture was friendly and comforting, and he needed it. My feelings didn't matter right now.

"How do you feel?"

"I'll be fine. I just hate myself when I have to shout at a woman who may never see her kid again."

"It's counter-productive to assume the girl is dead, Booth. You… you saw her thoughts. I think she's still alive."

Lie.

I didn't know. I hoped the girl lived, but I couldn't know whether this was true or not. But Booth had taught me that it was right to convey this hope to others, and that is what I did.

"I know Bones. But this woman… she's hard to crack. She's hiding stuff, and I don't like our theory so far. So many missing pieces, so many things that fit together that shouldn't… it's like ink in water."

"Ink?"

"Right now everything is grey and impossible to distinguish. How can you tell the pure truths from the black lies?"

Booth had never been one for metaphors, but this one had me listening to his deep voice, captivated. The image of the swirling black tendrils threatening the clear liquid was as vivid to me as his face.

"And the more we shake it, the more difficult it seems to be to separate them."

"But… if we stopped the ink wouldn't sediment to the bottom, Booth. This is life, not a glass of water." He needed to come back to reality.

"Yeah, Bones. Life."

He took the final step closer and hugged me tightly for a moment, then let go.

"Thanks."

I nodded, slowly regaining control, and followed him to his office.

"She won't tell us anything. I want to bring Bram in for interrogation, but that isn't the most important thing right now. I want to know more about Anne Stoker. What has she been doing exactly during these months? Was Jeanie Whitmore dead when the Anne's blood dripped on her clothes, or was she still alive? Did Anne know about Frank Bram sending her mom letters? Did she ever talk to him?"

"Tomorrow morning I'll go to the lab first thing, I promise. Cam and Hodgins were scrutinising every inch around the stain, classifying every particulate that can't be tied to the murder scene when we left, but it's very late, Booth, and they need sleep."

"Don't you?"

"Yes, of course."

But I was being watched over by Margaret Stoker's anguished shadow. And if she couldn't sleep, then neither could I until I knew everything. Not until every fact, every detail of the strange events could be neatly tied together and explained. Not until I could tell her where he daughter was, and how we would save her.

"Bones…" his eyes scrutinised my face in a very decidedly scientific, none-sexual way. "You wouldn't be lying to me, would you?"

"I'm not a very good liar, Booth."

"Promise me you'll sleep, Bones. Please. I need you on top form tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure."

He raised his eyebrows.  
"Bones, I'd hate to have to follow you home to make sure you sleep."

I looked away from his eyes. Occasionally people walked past us, ignoring the pair standing too close against the wall.

Right now it felt like everyone had simply disappeared. Including the woman in the black room behind us.

"It wouldn't work out." I admitted.

"Yeah, it would probably end badly."

"Very badly, yes. That is what would happen. The end would be… bad." How difficult it was, saying these things!

"Well, it wouldn't be bad, especially not the _end_…"

Oh God, no.

"But it would be _wrong_, that's what it would be."

"Right. Very… wrong." Somehow, saying it didn't make things better. I trembled slightly, still standing against the wall. I felt very vulnerable, here, with nowhere to run to if he chose to strike.

Strike.

Wrong word again, Temperance.

"Dangerous, even." I croaked, trying to convince myself.

"Yes. Danger."

Danger laughed at us from above as we fought not to touch. My hand was no longer on his arm, but like a phantom limb I could _feel_ it there.

"Well, there would be no danger of it _not_ happening. Because it would happen."

I couldn't even answer.

"Just danger of other things. Like falling. No one ever talks about falling off the bed, but it can happen. Sometimes I get carried away, see… but the floor works too."

"You think we'd make it to the bed?" I asked, because it was the first thing that I could think of just so that he'd stop talking about having sex on the floor…

"Couch, then."

"It's a very big couch."

"Yeah, nice colour, too."

"I bought it at IKEA."

"Really? I figured your furniture was all from some occult antique shop."

"Well, it isn't."

"Cool."  
Willpower. It took a lot of it.

But for once… victory.

His eyes were panicked, pupils dilated (arousal or fear, now?), and he scrambled backward. For a moment, his gaze swept over me, leaving me breathless and leaning against the wall for support. I felt naked to him, but this time like a suspect, like he was cataloguing every possible weakness he would exploit, and loving it.

I caught his eye, _finally_.

"See you tomorrow, Booth." I said pointedly.

He grinned a strange grin, like a child caught cheating.

"Sorry Bones. You're so beautiful, sometimes I forget."

And he was gone.

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_**How was that for fluff?**_

_**Um, not much, I think (except for the last line, 'cause it doesn't get fluffier than that). Fluff is cuter than this chap, I think, like Booth wearing syrup.**_

_**This was more of a pouring hot chocolate over his chest kind of thing.**_

_**This**__** is the last author's note where I cover Booth in various foods. And then tell you about it ;) Review and I absolutely promise it's the last one!**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**What? Only a day after the other one?**_

_**Yes! I had free time for the first time in… some time. And wrote this. ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 14 **

"There's something I still don't get."

"What is it, Angela?"

"How did Stoker escape from prison? It's just impossible. I don't believe it."

"They're still investigating that. We don't know yet. Can you please concentrate on the scenario again?"

"I'm out of ideas, Brennan. Zip. Zero."

I sighed, exasperated. Cam was calling me from the platform, two interns were walking toward me with questions, and Hodgins still hadn't identified the knife used to kill Jeanie Whitmore.

"Try harder, _please_."

I had Angela thinking about Anne's blood, because we still didn't know what had happened.

"What about Booth?"

"What about him?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Defensive, much? I meant what ideas has he come up with."

"He's trusting you, actually. I've got to go help Cam, Ange. We'll talk later."  
"Right."

I was about to leave, when a voice inside of me told me stop by the door. It wasn't my voice, however. Instead, it sounded strangely like Booth's.

"Angela, I think something's wrong with you. And we can't talk about it calmly now, but I'd like you to know that if you need anything, I'm here."

She looked up, so surprised at this I was almost hurt.

"Really?" and then a wide, beautiful smile. "Thanks sweetie. I appreciate that."

I nodded and closed the door behind me.

*

"Dr Brennan!"

"Yes, Cam?"

"I have bad news."

She was still leaning over Jeanie's clothes, looking at them through a microscope. Since we'd already examined every bit through much more powerful machines, I knew she just didn't want to look me in the face.

"What's wrong?"

"Tomorrow night is the fundraising party I told you about. Do you remember?"

"Yes." I had. I remembered perfectly, and I had no intention whatsoever to go. "I assume you want me to attend, Cam, but I'm not going. There's work to do. I'm sorry."

"It's at ten o'clock at night, Dr Brennan. Are you telling me you were planning on working until that time? Because if you were, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take serious action regarding your hours here…"

I felt a dark fury grip me, but tried to ignore it. She didn't understand. She didn't see the young girl, afraid, hurt and alone.

"…and until Booth gives us more to work on, there's no more evidence to be found here!"

"We haven't found it yet. But there will be evidence. There always is. Something that will help us. I'm not going tomorrow. We still haven't identified the knife…"

"If you haven't found it today, Dr Brennan, another nine hours tomorrow should be more than enough."

"Nine hours means working until seven. You'd give me two extra hours?" She usually wanted me to leave by five.

"Yes. If you leave work at seven you have time to get ready and come to the party…"

"No, Dr Saroyan. My decision is final."

She was really angry now.

"Dr Brennan, I have always respected your opinions and most of the time, I let you express them freely. I also have great admiration for your work and your intellect, but _I am your superior_. I am always your superior, and it's _my_ decision. It's important to our sponsors that you attend this party, and if it were a great effort on your part I wouldn't even ask. But to come for an hour and talk to two or three people is not an effort. Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Excuse me?"

Stubborn? Was I stubborn?

I measured the possibilities, trying to think of the best course this discussion could take.

In the end, I chose to go, of course. But Cam was wrong. Being here and not working was going to take a very great effort.

"Fine. I will come for one hour, and then I'll leave."

"Thank you, Dr Brennan."

I left to go and find Hodgins, then remembered.

"Was this the bad news?"

"Yes, Brennan."

I nodded and left the platform.

"Hodgins!"

But as he came toward me, my phone rang.  
"Brennan."

"_Hey, it's me."_

"Hi Booth. What is it?"

"_I'm going to interrogate Frank Bram, and they want you __be in there with me."_

"Really?"

"_Yeah, do it together. __He thinks we're a couple. We're supposed to act like couple, remember?"_

"Oh." I hadn't. I had completely forgot.

"_My boss thinks it will throw him. And I kind of agree… if you don't mind…?"_

"No, of course not. I'll come right away."

"_Great. See you at the Hoover in half an hour?"_

"Yes. Bye."

"_Bye, Bones."_

Hodgins walked up to me.

"I'm trying to narrow it down, and I'm down to three brands."

I was surprised. "Excellent work, Hodgins. Call me as soon as you know, please."

"Of course, Dr B. You're going to interrogate that sick guy?"

Even tough there was no evidence to suggest Mr Bram was suffering an illness, I let it pass.

"Yes, Mr Bram."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. See you later, I'll come back as soon as the interrogation is over."

*

"Remember, just act like a team, no good cop bad cop stuff, just two against one."

"That tactic is rarely used, actually."

"Just listen to me, please, Agent Booth."

We were being given last minute advice by Sweets, but Booth just rolled his eyes.  
"And no need to mention your relationship unless he brings it up, okay?"

"We know that, Dr Sweets." I said quickly.

"Okay. Good luck."

He went into the observation room and we entered the interrogation room.

Bram wasn't sitting, he was standing in the middle, arms folded across his chest.

"Why the hell do you want me again? I thought you'd finally caught the real killer?"

"Shut the fuck up."

I knew Booth often became someone else in this room, but I hadn't expected him to change so much. "Sit down, you asshole."

Bram raised his eyebrows at me but sat. "Your boyfriend is pretty rough, huh?"

"You have no idea." I said lightly.

"What am I supposed to have done now?"

"You're a creep, and I don't like- _stop staring at her_." His tone became steel suddenly. Bram chuckled.  
"Overprotective, much? She's a strong girl, I think she can take it."

"Is that what you liked about Lily, Frank? She was strong?" I asked.

"Lily taught preschool. She was kind and beautiful. Like a flower."

"Have you ever heard the name Sandra Llevot?" Booth cut in.

"Nope."

"Helen Evans?"  
"No."

"Frank, can you tell us about Margaret?" I said, sitting down to face him.

"Sure. I worked for her for two months, then her husband fired me 'cause the idiot felt threatened…"

"Threatened?"

"Yeah. Margaret was falling for me. She didn't realise it, but I knew, I could tell. She loves me. And her husband was an asshole." His eyes shone with fervour. I wanted to yell that he was deluded, but knew I couldn't.

"Why, Frank?"

"He worked for the mob! Helping finance that guy Bohnn's drug operation… Kevin Stoker was a bad man."

"And you're a good man?" the disbelief was clear in my tone.

"Look, you people don't understand. All I ever did was love her. Lily. And then she died… how does this have to do with me wanting to hurt Margaret?"

"Did you meet Anne?"

"Anne?"

"Yeah, Margaret's pretty daughter. Sixteen, blue eyes, dark hair…"

"Yeah, I saw her a couple of times. Very pretty, but not as much as Margaret. Or you." He added, looking at me again.

And suddenly Booth grabbed my arm and ran out of the interrogation room. He slammed the door behind us, breathing heavily, just as Sweets came toward us.

"I realised it at the same time you did, man…"

"Shit! What have I done? _Shit_!"

I didn't understand a thing.

"What's happening? What happened?"  
"Bram's victim profile… if he was the killer, the profile was middle-aged, brunette, tall, and _beautiful_." As he said this word, his eyes pleaded with me. For what, I didn't know. "Well educated, usually rich, and always, _always_ in a relationship with someone else."

I still didn't understand. Why was Booth afraid?

"I don't understand."

"Dr Brennan, by lying to Bram and telling him that you and Agent Booth have a sexual relationship, you now fit his profile exactly."

The first thing I could think to say was: "I'm thirty two."

"In this case, age is the less determining variant!" Booth exploded. "What have I done? Fuck!" he punched the wall and cursed again.

I wasn't scared, though. I'd faced worse. Frank Bram wasn't even the prime suspect, he was just a man with a twisted mind who deluded himself.

"I'll be fine. Let's just get back in there."

"No way, you're not seeing him again."

"Actually, Agent Booth, I think it's a good idea. As long as Dr Brennan shows herself completely devoted to you, we'll stop this right now and Bram won't be able to lie to himself about her affections. It might be best than if she doesn't go back in, which, seeing as how you dragged her outside, would make him feel protective of her."

Booth nodded. "Okay, that's right. But you stay beside me, Bones. Just _act_, okay? Act like we've done before and we'll be fine. I'll keep you safe."

Sweets raised his eyebrows at this, but didn't comment.

"Okay. I'll act."

"I'll tell you exactly what to do, Dr Brennan. Just follow my every instruction and you'll be fine. Remember, I'm always in your ear."

I nodded, and Booth opened the door again. He held it for me and walked in after me.

"What the hell was that?" Bram asked, looking amused.

"I felt like kissing her." Booth spat, and I wondered if Bram would believe this. It sounded ludicrous to me.

But Bram laughed. "Whatever, dude."

A tinny voice spoke in my ear. "_Hold Agent Booth's hand, Dr Brennan."_

I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself.

It was going to be a very long interrogation.

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_**Are you familiar with the concept of sublimina**__**l messages? Here's an example for you:**_

_**R**__eviews are not something I'll be asking for this time_

_**E**__lephants are not purple_

_**V**__olcanoes are hot (though not as much as Booth)_

_**I**____would like to eat my desserts off of a certain FBI agent. No, you'll never guess which one._

_**E**__ven though he loves Bones, so that may not work out._

_**W**__ell, I could always write about them obsessively__**…**_


	15. Chapter 15

**Wooo! Thanks so much for the feedback on the last chappie, I hope this lives up to your expectations!**** ;)**

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**CHAPTER 15**

_It was going to be a very long interrogation._

I sat down next to Booth and did as Sweets had said. Trying not to hesitate, I took his strong hand in both my own. Since I wasn't going to be asking many questions, I pretended to trace invisible patterns around his knuckles, ignoring Frank Bram's bright blue eyes trying to catch mine.

"_Excellent, Dr Brennan_." Sweets said in my ear. I knew Booth could hear him too, but he didn't even flinch; his expression stayed cold and cruel.

"I thought this interrogation was about me." Was this my lack of expertise, or did Bram sound annoyed as he noted our hands intertwined?

"Sure it is, pal. Just answer our questions with the truth, this time."

"I'm tired of you guys thinking I'm lying. What else am I supposed to do?"

"Tell me about Margaret and Kevin's relationship."

As I stared at Booth's hand, I couldn't help but wonder what good a biased, unreliable description from an ex-suspect would do us, but no doubt he and Sweets knew what they were doing.

"I told you. He was an asshole. Treated her like some jewel of his, and not a person, you know? Margaret needed a strong man, this guy was a weakling. Pathetic, I tell you. Dr Brennan, you wouldn't have liked him at all."

In a rush, I heard "_Quickly, you're indignant. How can he know what you like? He doesn't know you, Dr Brennan! Distance yourself from him!"_

"The hell do you know what I like?" I asked, letting more petulance slip into my tone than I usually would have.

"You seem into this guy here, right?"

I glanced at Booth and didn't have to modify my expression one bit. I smiled at my partner and softly admitted:

"Yeah. I like this guy here."

But now Bram looked really bothered.

"I mean, the way you two were going at it in the car, I'd say _like_ is a pretty big understatement…"

"_What?"_ Sweets shouted in my ear.

Oh crap.

"Look pal…"

"_What is he talking about? What happened?"_

"Not now, okay?" I said loudly to Bram, hoping Sweets understood I was talking to him.

"You don't want to talk about what I saw, babe?"

"_Don't let him call you that, Dr Brennan."_Sweets said quickly. But then he added: _"You two and I are going to have a conversation…"_

"Don't call her that, you idiot, what the hell's the matter with you?"

"Do you feel threatened, Agent Booth? Oh, and the doctor doesn't like you speaking for her."

He was right, I hadn't controlled my expression and was looking at Booth with raised eyebrows. I quickly rearranged my features, but it was too late.

"_Do exactly as I say__, guys. If I tell Dr Brennan to say it, let _her_ say it, Agent Booth!"_

"Stop nagging him, Bram." I said, and drew my seat closer to Booth's. Two against one, Sweets had said.

"_Dr Brennan, touch him, hold him, anything. He's already separating you two."_

I let one of my hands trail up Booth's arm and watched, fascinated, as my fingers entwined in his hair forming wonderful patterns. I let the smile tugging at my lips show, but Booth still didn't glance at me.

"_Agent Booth,__ you need to look at her. Remind Bram that she's not alone. You're a _unit_, remember."_

So Booth flashed me quick grin and then turned back to the suspect.  
"Do you think we can leave my girl out of this, Bram?"

"Nah. I like her. She's hot, man."

I could hear the anger waking up, but he barely modified his expression. His pulse was absolutely frantic, and I got brave and kissed his cheek.

"Booth, it's okay. You're hot too." I chuckled, and Sweets said "_Fantastic. You are a natural, Dr Brennan_" in my ear.

But this didn't work as I'd hoped. Instead of relaxing, his pulse quickened. I could measure it with my fingers around his wrist.

"Mr Bram, tell us about working for the Stoker family."

"Well, I told you it was only for two months, right? So it was Margaret who I met first…"

As he spoke, I didn't look at him once, pretending (well, not really pretending) to be absorbed in Booth, but almost absent-mindedly, as though we did this often.

My thoughts strayed to the man sitting opposite us. Underneath Frank's plain exterior, there was a cold, cruel intelligence in those bright blue eyes which disturbed me. Why was this man a gardener? His strong build and dominant personality suggested anything but a man dedicated to grooming flowers.

"And you like women who look like Margaret, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess." He looked visibly uncomfortable. But then he grinned. "The nice Doctor here is my type too."

"You're forty three, Frank. She's too young for you." Booth spat immediately. But then he seemed to gain control again. "Besides… she's mine. So cut it out."

"If you say so…"

I frowned at the man who doubted I was, in any way, not Booth's.

"Why dark hair, Frank?"

"_Excellent, Agent Booth, you're making him very uncomfortable."_

"I don't know, man. You tell me." He nodded in my direction again, and I rolled my eyes. I wasn't helping in this interrogation.

For once, just this once, Sweets agreed with me.

"_I think it's time for Dr Brennan to leave. We could make things worse if she stays."_

Booth nodded imperceptively.

"_Kiss him when you go, Dr Brennan."_

"What?" I said, losing my calm for a moment.  
"What is it, babe?"

"Stop calling her that!"

"Why is it necessary!"

"I'll call her whatever I feel like!"

"Shut up, you…!"

"_Everybody calm down_!" But Sweets shouting for calm didn't mean I could lower my heart rate at will.

Booth, trained Agent that he was, was the first to regain control. He stood up, took out his earpiece ("_What's he doing! Agent Booth, stop this_!") and faced Bram with contempt.

"Frank, I think you're an asshole. But more than that, I think you're stupid, Frank. Do you know why? It's because you are a gardener when you could be someone else, and _that_ is what makes you stupid. You say you're in love with Margaret Stoker, that she reciprocates your feelings… I believe you. I've been in love… I _am_ in love. But since I know what you say is true, I also know you're trying to annoy me by not answering a single one of my fucking questions. Instead, you flirt with my girl here. Well, that ends now. Tempe, go watch this stupid asshole from behind a glass and we'll talk later."

It was the use of my name, Tempe, the way only my father and brother had ever used it, that brought me crashing back.

"_Kiss him__ before you go, Dr Brennan. It's important. Please, for once can someone do as I ask?"_

I stood up and walked to Booth. How would I kiss him if we were a couple? A quick peck? Would that ever be enough? Could I stand not running my hands through his hair, or not pressing my body against his if I knew I was _allowed_ to?

In the end, I leaned toward him gently and placed a hand on his chest, as if to soften the tension in his muscles. But then something happened.

He smiled.

It was a warm, fantastic, caring smile which lazily lit his face, and it stopped me in my tracks. I felt as though the happiness he exuded would surely blaze violently if I actually kissed him. I felt as though I would be burned by the fire in his eyes if I came too close.

I felt paralysed.

I couldn't. I couldn't kiss him.

Booth must have sensed this, because he placed his hands on either side of my face and brought his lips to mine. In an instant every thought disappeared, and I stepped closer to deepen the contact. It had been too long. We hadn't kissed since yesterday as the sun was setting…

I had been right. I _was_ burned.

"Shit, you'd think I was in the fucking FBI building, not some porno studio."

We broke apart and, instead of looking away, Booth smiled at me _again_. He needed to stop doing that.

I left the room feeling drunk.

*

"Never, _ever_ again am I conducting an interrogation with Bones in the room doing… those things. Never. I can't concentrate like that. I can't think. It's the stupidest thing I've ever done. I was terrible in there. What the hell was I thinking…?"

"Booth, it's okay. It's over. I'm going back to the lab and…"

"No. Stay for a few seconds. Please?"

"Yes, you're staying for a few seconds, Dr Brennan. We need to talk."

"Not now, Sweets…"

"Yes, now. For once, you two are going to tell me what's really happening and then you're going to listen to me and do as I say. Let's pretend I don't care about you right now. Let's pretend I'm not concerned about any issues you are developing. But for the girls, for Anne, I want you two to work properly, and _you are going to tell me what Bram meant_."

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_**Dun, du DUUUUH!!!**_

_**Unfortunately my funny-o-meter is down today. So I'm going to ask you ultra nicely, okay?**_

_**Would you be so kind as to please if it isn't much of an inconveniece to you of course because it would be ever so helpful to me to **__**REVIEW?**_

_**THANK YOU!**_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Mainly b**__**ecause I felt like it, and because a few people have been asking, I'm going to write a kind of prequel to this story (called "Mean") from Booth's POV. It's not going to be very long, but it will explain some stuff and also… Booth's inner monologue (namely the repressed sexual imaginery) is going to be fun to write!!!**_

***cackles**** evilly***

***laughs because it's fun to say the word 'cackle'***

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**CHAPTER 16**

"…I want you two to work properly, and _you are going to tell me what Bram meant_."

We stood in the small dark observation room, watching Frank through the tinted glass. Booth looked so tense I thought his neck ligaments were going to break (or I would have, if that were possible). I myself wasn't feeling my best, but when we exchanged a glance I still managed to understand without words.

I was going to let Booth talk, and he was going to _lie_.

Nothing was worth risking our partnership, and Sweets was a part of that nothing. Telling him was not an option, especially because he'd undoubtedly find some twisted way of interpreting it the wrong way.

But here I halted, because really, what was the wrong way of interpreting this?

"Before you get all emotional and angry, Sweets, let me explain and don't interrupt."

"Too late. I'm already angry. I am supposed to _help_ you."

"It's not what you think." I said before I could stop myself.

"Since when have you been able to tell what people think?"

I blanched. I hadn't expected Sweets to aim a cruel comment my way, and I hadn't thought he possessed the tools necessary to wound me.

I had been very wrong.

"You'd better back off right about now, kid." Booth said, stepping toward Sweets in a menacing swagger.

The so-called doctor immediately looked regretful, and much younger.

"Dr Brennan, I'm very sorry."

I didn't answer. I was aware of my lack of social tact in certain situations, which was why I sometimes let Booth help me or guide me in the right direction. Right now I felt flustered and, unable to look either man in the eye, I stared at the floor and tried to contain the deep weariness threatening to overpower me. I knew I could be a bit of a hindrance in some situations, but to actually hear it from someone else made it more real that I would have imagined. A so-called professional, too.

Booth turned away from Sweets in disgust and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Bones, it's okay." He said softly. "Ignore the idiot. You know what he said isn't true, right?"

"Yes it is. I'm the first to admit that in social situations, I am not the best qualified…"

"You're perfect." Booth said firmly, interrupting me.

"I didn't mean to imply you are bad during social situations." Sweets said quickly. "I'm so sorry. It's just… you and Agent Booth have always laughed at me, always at my expense, and I mean it when I say I _understand_. But I spent two hours waiting for you to show up for dinner the other day, and you didn't even have the decency to call me and tell me you wouldn't come! After everything I've tried to do… And now… but I apologise. I'm just tired, and I've been sick for a couple of days…"

I nodded, still not quite recovered. Booth looked furious, untouched by Sweet's apology.

"I don't care how sorry you are. We're leaving until you can get your act together."

"You can't. You need to answer my questions."

"We can and we will. Bye, Sweets."

"Look if you leave now I'll have to report this."

I got my voice back rather quickly. "Report _what_, exactly?"

"The truth. Or what I think to be the truth until you can explain it to me otherwise. I work here, you know. I have an important job."

Booth and I exchanged a glance. I'd never seen the psychologist like this. I hadn't expected this attitude from him, and neither had my partner, apparently.

"Fine, I'll tell you what happened, and you write _that_ down."

"If I believe you are telling the truth."

The atmosphere was antagonistic as Booth spoke.

"Okay, well, here's the thing. You know we caught Bram and that, at the moment, I used Bones to gain advantage of the situation by pretending we were a couple?"

"I was informed, yes."

"Okay, and that like the idiot that I was, I didn't realise I was making the last puzzle-piece click in Bram's twisted mind?"  
"Really Agent Booth, blaming yourself for this man's delusions isn't…"

"I said don't interrupt. So anyway, I kind of… asked Bones to kiss me, to convince Bram of what I'd said, right?"

"Of course." He sounded sceptical, but I didn't notice because hearing this modified yet semi-true version of what had happened was making me feel… very… strange, although the word isn't perhaps the most accurate for descriptions.

"And then I kissed her, and we kind of got carried away."  
Thankfully Booth knew not to look at me, just as I was avoiding looking at him. Because it was irrational how badly I wanted to shout "_I_ kissed _you_!"

"Carried away?" Sweets asked, raising his eyebrows. But he didn't look angry anymore. In fact, he looked happy and a bit apprehensive. "So how did that make you feel?"

Booth just gave a short, cruel laugh. "Let's go, Bones."

And we left him, not making the mistake of sharing a glance and letting our lie fall apart.

*

"So you should go to the lab, I'll stay here and talk to Agent Keller, he's the one in charge of figuring out how the hell Stoker escaped from prison. Keller said he'd keep me informed, so..."

"Excellent. Hodgins was working on identifying the knife used for the murder, and I want to go back to the lab anyway."

"Great."

Work now dutifully settled, we stood facing each other, unsure of how to act.

"So… I'll see you tomorrow at the party?" he asked.

"You're coming?" I was surprised, and had mixed feelings about seeing him. Dressing up would undoubtedly bring bad consequences for us, and turn the entire evening into a session of torture.

And yet… I inexplicably felt ecstatic that I had a reason to see him tomorrow.

"Of course I'm coming, Bones! I'm the unofficial official FBI liaison!" he grinned and I smiled back, remembering thick glasses, mummies, and my only infantile indulgence: a Wonder Woman costume.

Just then an Agent I'd seen a couple of times (but hadn't exchanged words with) walked past us. He was shorter than Booth, and thinner. I couldn't help but compare them and inwardly reaffirm my assessment that Booth was a warrior and a true alpha-male. In the middle of a corridor of the FBI (admittedly the same one from last night) I felt aroused. Booth was so…

"IQ alert, IQ alert!" the Agent started saying, laughing at us.

Booth snorted and signalled to me toward the elevator.

"Was he referring to my unusually high Intelligence Quotient?" I asked as we walked, trying to shake inappropriate thoughts from my head.

"Actually… no, Bones. He wasn't."

"What?" I grabbed his arm and stopped him from running away from this one. "Then did he mean? I don't understand."

"You kind of… have a nickname here." He sounded annoyed. "I don't agree with it, and I try to keep them from using it… but Daniels is young, he has a crush on you and his first kill was two weeks ago."

"What nickname, Booth?"

"IQ."

"Yes, I understood that. What does IQ stand for?" His eyes flashed with amusement, and I punched him lightly on the arm. "_Tell me_, Booth."

"Ice Queen."

I surprised us both by smiling.

"Really."

He laughed.

"Yeah, Bones. Ice Queen."

"But you don't think it's accurate?"

"Of course not. Queen isn't enough."

And that was how he ruined our moment.

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_**.**_

_**Sorry this was kind of short, but the next chap is going to make up for it.  
I promise.**_

_**Review, review, review, review…**_

_**Oh, you hadn't heard of learning by repetition?  
Review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review, review…**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Guys, I'm SO sorry that I haven't been able to reply to any reviews this time. But you know **__**why that is? It's because I've been writing THIS so quickly! So please forgive me? ;)**_

_**I want to take this moment to thank you all awesomely for being… well… so awesome! This story is getting so much attention, and I'm really flattered so many of you guys like it! Seriously, THANK YOU!!!**_

_**PS. **__**Hero wasn't perfect, but I really loved some of the moments in it. My favourite being Booth standing with the woman Teddy loved but never told, and Booth seeing Teddy's ghost standing with the woman Booth loved but never told (YET!).**_

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**CHAPTER 17**

"_Queen isn't enough."_

"What?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "You… queen isn't enough. You are…"

"So I'm more frigid? More insensitive?"

"What?"

"_Colder_, Booth? Is that what you meant? I'm assuming 'ice' is in reference to my lack of social tact and direct nature? Well thank you! Thank you very much for saying I should be more than a queen!"

He looked horrified.  
"No! No, that's not what I meant! Bones, I told you I don't agree with those guys! I meant that queen will never be enough for you. Forget ice… you… how could you think I would ever… you're _fire_, Bones, not ice."

I took a step back, to save myself. But it was too late.

"You… you are perfect. You're not pompous or sit on a throne, that's why queen isn't an adjective that defines you! You have passion, and you're smart and you manage to make me laugh even though you know about the harshness of life better than anyone else. You are beautiful, but your grace, that beauty is… worthy of a better word."

I couldn't speak.

"That's why queen isn't… enough. Forget the ice."

If only I could remember it.

*

"Brennan what's wrong?" Angela's voice sounded concerned, not annoyed this time. I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder, because I was trying to get dressed for the wretched party while talking to my friend, something harder to accomplish than may seem.

"I'm just tired, Angela. I'll see you now, right?"

"Of course. I'm already dressed and about to leave, unlike others."

"Sorry. I'll see you in twenty minutes, okay?"

"Okay. Just let me say something first."

"What is it, Ange?"

"I think you're worried. I don't know why, so don't ask me, but something's happened and it has to do with Booth, of course… but I've decided it's up to you to tell me. When you're ready, you will, that's that. But Bren, tonight, if that's what you're afraid of, of seeing him tonight, I'll help, okay? I'll be there all the time if you need me."

I nodded, then realised I was speaking on the phone.

"Thank you, Angela."

More than ever, I felt the unlikely bond between me and the artist grow.

I hung up the phone and glanced at myself in the mirror. Fear was what had made me do what I'd done, which was try and look as beautiful as I could. Fear that Booth would suffer less than I. Fear that tonight, with water falling from the sky and the sunset obscured by clouds, would be our downfall.

Another image, clear as my reflection staring back with fear in her eyes, came into my mind. It was me, dressed exactly as I was now, standing on white marble steps, not ascending or descending, simply there.

I was soaked. My hair no longer elegantly combed, my blue dress no longer swishing around my thighs when I moved. I was barefoot, and my high heeled shoes lay discarded on a side, shining blue against the pale steps.

I breathed, and that was the only sound in this strange world.

*

"Dr Brennan, thank you."

I nodded at Cam but didn't stay to talk to her, because being here was the absolute last thing I wanted, and it was her fault. She was conversing with two older men who clearly held a high position in the Jeffersonia, and who I in fact knew, but had no respect for right now.

We'd worked all evening yesterday, and all of today, and the only progress we'd made had been discovering the model of the knife used to murder Jeanie Whitmore. Which turned out to be available at any convenience store in the area, and so not helpful.

Angela was standing alone, so I quickly went to her. "Hey Ange."

"Sweetie, you look fantastic. That blue goes with your eyes and… oh I'm speechless!"

I laughed. "You look great too, Angela." She did. Angela was wearing a dark brown dress to just below her knees, and a high ponytail.

"Thanks."

We talked for a while about a music group coming for a concert nearby, and Angela really wanted to go and see them. I wondered whether we'd have found Anne Stoker by that time.

And then she nudged my on the arm and pointed.  
"Booth's here, Bren."

I turned to look, and almost dislocated my jaw.

Booth was wearing his usual dark suit and white shirt, but no tie this time. Two buttons had been undone and the delicious V shape made him look younger and… well… incredibly attractive. More so than usual.

When he saw me he didn't look at my eyes. Not for a while.

"Hey Bones."

I chuckled.

"It's polite to make eye-contact when initiating a conversation, Booth."

He did, and I regretted making the observation.

"I'm sorry, Bones." He smiled. "You look very nice."

"As do you."

"Thanks."

Angela cleared her throat loudly.  
"Hey, Booth."

"Angela! Looking good. Aren't you going to let the guys in the room make it through the evening without embarrassing themselves by flirting with you?"

"Of course not!" She laughed and sauntered away. I panicked. She'd lied! She said she'd stay with me and she'd lied!

Two FBI Agents who'd also collaborated with the Jeffersonian on a few occasions came toward us, however. They both knew Booth, who was polite and introduced me to them.

"Hey guys, this is Temperance Brennan, my partner."

But not them to me. How strange.

"Wow, so this is the famous IQ."

I rolled my eyes.  
"I hope you're aware of the fact that I already know what those letters stand for?"

The Agent who'd spoken laughed, and the one next to him punched him in the arm.

"She got you, Dan."

Dan smiled appreciatively at me and asked Booth:

"So? Is she as smart as everyone says? 'Cause she's definitely hotter than I'd heard."

"Smarter." Booth said proudly.

The other Agent, the one who'd punched Dan, turned to me.

"So is it true that Booth's got a sweet sugary soft spot for you?"

"I… don't know what that means."

"Shut up, Fred."

"Seriously man, how can you concentrate on work with her around?"  
"Booth and I are partners." I informed them firmly.

"Is it true you've gone undercover as a couple?"

This was beginning to feel like an interrogation.

"Yes. During a case in Las Vegas…"

"Is it true you kissed him to get a trailer for your convict dad?"

"Hey, easy pal…" Booth began.  
"To spend Christmas in, yes, I…"

"And you really aren't a couple?"

"No, we're _partners_…"

Booth groaned.

"Bones, don't answer these idiots, okay? Just ignore their stupid questions."

"Wait, just one more!" Fred said, looking at me admiringly. "Dr Brennan, is it true that you've seen Booth naked?"

"What? How can they know that?"

The two men began to clap with broad grins on their faces. "Hell, yeah!" and "Well done Seeley!" could be heard occasionally as well. People were beginning to look our way, and Angela raised her eyebrows at me inquisitively. I felt very lost, and my head began to hurt. What had I done wrong now? Why couldn't I get anything right with people?

I only understood dead bodies. Bones.

"They didn't know that until you just told them, Bones. There was a stupid rumour going around that we'd slept together and..."

"It was a mistake." I said faintly, feeling a twinge of nausea. The Agent's laughter rang loud in my ears, and every clap of their hands sent a throb of pain up my neck. "I didn't know you'd be in the… shower… when I…"

"Bones?"

Booth's concerned face shimmered before my eyes. I swayed where I stood, thinking I should have probably eaten lunch today, or at least breakfast.

"Bones, are you okay?"

His arms around me.

The laughter loud, too loud…

Booth…

I fainted.

*

"Bones. Bones!"

Waking up to Booth practically lying on top of me was less pleasant than I could have anticipated. Or more, depending on your perspective.

I sat up, noting everyone was standing around me with various degrees of concern on their faces.

"Are you okay, Dr Brennan?" Cam asked.

"Fine. I'm all right."

"You sure, sweetie? You look a bit pale…"

Booth was clutching my shoulders, his face millimetres away. "You had me worried there for a few moments, Bones."

"I should eat."

Of everything I could have said with his breath mixing with mine, I chose the most direct, and the less likely to result in him kissing me. Or me kissing him. With everyone else watching. All around us.

It was hard to remember sometimes that we weren't alone.

"I'm fine, Angela. You can all go back to the party."

"Let's get you something to eat, Bones."

I stood up refusing his help, my dress rustling into place, and took a deep breath. His closeness was confusing to my brain. "Actually, I think I'll get some air. Alone." I said sharply, because when he looked like that nothing prevented me from losing reason completely.

People began sauntering away now that the entertainment was over. I felt relieved, and quickly twisted away from Booth's grip to try and find that cold air that would give me back my rational thoughts.

*

As I walked away from the crowd and went downstairs to the lab, I tried to forget his look of concern. Fainting was nothing. Nothing to being shot, to feeling blood on his hands, fainting was _nothing_. So he had no right to look like that, no right at all to be so worried and protective. No right make me feel so taken care of, so cared _about_.

No right!

As I stomped my way past the platform, I noticed a monitor was still on. Taking care to slip my card past the security system, I walked up, heels clicking with every step I took.

It was a simple X-ray someone had forgotten to turn off. I quickly moved to do so myself, but then I realised whose it was.

Jeanie Whitmore's skull. Bashed by the handle of a wooden knife with so much force she'd died. The fractures. The pattern of breaks in the bone which told me the exact angle at which the son of a bitch who'd killed her had struck.

The same son of a bitch who right now could be torturing or killing a young girl. A frightened teenager…

What would the mother do if she saw me like this? Dressed for a party, fantasising about my partner like a schoolgirl…? Would she hit me? I'd deserve it. I'd deserve it all for forgetting about the scared child who, at this very moment, felt a bone-chilling fear beyond anything imaginable. The kind of fear I had once felt.

I'd deserve anything. Fresh air? No air was fresher than the air outside, was it? Who cared about the thunder? About the rain? About some stupid party?

So throwing caution to the air, I ran outside straight into the storm. Unaware of the dark figure following me.

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_**Caution to the WIND, Bones!**_

_**Nope, I'm not asking you to review. I've nailed you guys with requests in every single chap, so this time I'm NOT going to ask you for a review. Nope. I bet you're all too busy, anyway.**_

_**Too busy to review a chapter which was written with so much care and thought about you… a chapter written **__**FOR you, really, because reviews are what keep me writing…**_

_**See? I'm not asking. I mean, if you want to, sure, I'd be happy. But there's no need. Don't feel forced or anything.**_

_**Really.**_

_**;)**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Just read it.**

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**CHAPTER**** 18**

I wanted to scream at the sky until I felt better, because containing energy like this made me dizzy. The wind was whipping my hair around me and ruining the carefully combed ringlets, but I could care less.

Lightning.

I almost laughed, because I'd once described Booth's kiss as lightning. But I'd been wrong; lightning was cruel and deadly because it let me see the city more clearly for an instant. It was huge, full of buildings and streets, alleys and dark corners… there were so many places to hide a frightened girl. The lightning was taunting me because I didn't know where she was, or even if she was alive…

"Anne."

My lips moved without my permission. I walked slowly toward the storm, feeling guilty for every second I'd thought of Booth and not of her. Was she in pain?

"Anne!"

The roaring wind took my words. No one would hear if I shouted. And, really, who would care?

I took the final step and felt the cold rain immediately soak through my dress, plaster my hair to my face and mix with the tears stinging my eyes.

"I'll find you, Anne!" I told her. But she couldn't hear me. It was irrational to say things nobody would hear…

Right?

"Bones!"

"Go away!" I whirled around, feeling sick, to face him. He still looked calm, suit unruffled. Not a hair out of place.

"Bones, come back inside, you'll catch something terrible!"

"Leave me alone, Booth!" I knew I must look pathetic, shivering and wild-eyed, like a madwoman. But I didn't care. I still didn't care what he thought because I _couldn't_, and he had to leave now or...

The look on his face ended this thought.

"I'll never leave you alone! _Never_, Bones!"

"I know you won't. Of course I know." I whispered to the wind, which understood and quickly stole the words away from his grasp.

"Come back!"  
"No!"

I drew myself up to my fullest height and murdered him with my eyes. "For once, Booth, just do as I ask or I swear I'll…!"

He walked right toward me. The instant he took a step away from the shelter of the Jeffersonian's columns and roof, the water was on him. Hair drenched, suit ruined, and he'd never, ever looked more attractive.

Like an unstoppable force he came toward me, grabbed my wrist and tried to drag me back. He was too strong, the vice-like tug impossible to fight.

"I don't care about your feelings right now, Bones, I care about your health. You're coming back in…!"

I managed to twist away from him in a fairly basic self-defence manoeuvre and he stumbled. I felt like a stubborn child, but I didn't care.

"Fine! You know what? Fine, Bones! Catch a cold in that ridiculous dress and _die_, see if I care!"

"People don't die of a cold in the United States, Booth!"

"Then just… fuck, Bones!" and he took off his jacket and threw it at me. "Put that on!"

I did, because if putting it on meant he'd leave me be, I was willing to comply.

Another flash of lightning.

He stood staring at me, and I looked back at him. The noise was deafening, the force of the wind meant I had to be careful to stand, and the rain was ice-cold.

But as the light illuminated every inch of him for the briefest of moments, time seemed to freeze. What really happened was that the surge of adrenaline stimulated my sensory capabilities and made me able to process every detail more clearly. But it felt as if, for a second, silence created a cocoon around us.

Only us.

The raindrops fell slowly in this timeless zone, some landing in his hair, most of them plastering his now transparent shirt to his muscled chest. Two fell on his eyelashes, and I envied them with a fervor I hadn't even known existed in me before. One landed on his parted lips, dripping, taunting…

"Booth…" I gasped, my voice shaking. In slow motion he flicked his head to shake the water off, his eyes never leaving mine, and I was lost. I snapped. Failed. Finally let go. I'd been right to fear what would happen tonight.

Except, right now, I wasn't afraid anymore.

"We should go inside."

He didn't shout, but in this bubble made for us I knew what he said.

"Yes." I answered just as softly, taking a step to him.

"Everyone will be wondering where we are." He also walked toward me, and his eyes weren't squinting against the curtain of water falling between us. I knew why this was, even though he'd never told me. Too used to observing targets and choosing ranges in bad weather.

A shattering desire to cleanse everything that made his eyes lose their light made me shiver. I wanted to make him feel… ecstatic.

"They'll be worried, Bones."

"I know."

But abruptly the moment ended. Time was no longer slow, it was back to normal and he wasn't walking to me, he was running. I was too, and we collided with fury, just as the thunder rolled…

And our lips met, mouths immediately opening to taste that forbidden, delicious taste that kept me awake at night. His hands were everywhere; my back, pressing me closer, my hips knocking me to him and grinding his erection against me, wet hair, cheeks, neck, breasts…

I didn't have time for buttons, so I ripped the shirt open. He groaned…

"Do that again."

I tore at more cloth and his mouth went to my neck, biting and licking. It was freezing cold, but we didn't care. I shook his jacket off and grabbed his hair, pushing his head back so that I could explore more of him. First the outline of his jaw, then lower, to his chest.

"You look so fucking beautiful I could barely _think_ for a while there, Bones…"

I looked up at him. This time, we didn't avoid each other's eyes. It was almost violent, the force vibrating between us.

"You think that open neck didn't have me wondering what _you'd_ do if I bit the hollow of your throat?"

"Then please…" he grabbed my face and pulled me up. His lips crushed mine for a moment, then he tilted his head sideways, exposing his neck.

I didn't bite immediately; first I savoured this new place which before had only been made for my head to rest in. I licked up to his earlobe and down, up and down… and he groaned in pleasure, the pressure against my thighs increasing with his arousal.

Then I bit, softly, and I heard his sharp intake of breath.

"You kill me, Bones." The rumble as he spoke made me smile, and I remembered missing this the most, the way his every word seemed to be inside of me, too.

I kissed his lips again, taking my time to taste again, so I never forgot.

As we stood, entangled and soaking, I felt very exposed for a moment. Anyone could come, the storm still raged on around us, we were alone on the white expanse of the steps…

But his fingers raked my hair and I forgot.

I kicked off a high heeled shoe and wrapped my leg around him. His response was to cup my butt and lift me entirely so that my other shoe fell off and neither of my bare feet touched the ground. I was now above him, kissing from a vantage point, able to claw at his back from my height.

One of his hands went to the straps of my dress, fingers closing around it but not removing, as though hesitating.

I tore my mouth from his and yanked at the wet fabric until only my chest stopped it from sliding down.

"Pull." I ordered, lifting my arms and throwing back my head, letting the rain wash the make-up off my face. And pull he did, but not with his hands. He bit the hollow right between my breasts and slid the dress down, his pupils the size of the moon above us. I looked down at him and saw, just as another strike of lightning threw his features into sharp relief, the fire blazing in his mind.

And I smiled, forgetting the yearning between my thighs for a moment, forgetting my own, terrifying, all-consuming desire.

His eyes slid to mine, and I tried to get back to the furious, violent passion of before, because he defined the word "disarming". I had wondered about it's origins for a while now. It seemed to have nothing to do with removing concealed weapons off of someone, or extricating their arms. So what was it that "disarming" represented?

And now I knew. He did take weapons, although they were hidden so well I hadn't known they were there myself.

So I lifted my arms again and waited, interlocking my fingers, looking down at him with a wicked grin. Quickly erasing the love from my features that would surely give me away.

The strapless bra was black, like his eyes became when they feasted on the sight revealed. He removed it with more care than he had the dress, with a slightly disbelieving look on his face, as though he wasn't certain this was happening.

I felt incredibly exposed as the black cloth fell on the wide marble steps. But Booth didn't give me time to think, he gently put me down and did something I hadn't expected.

He kissed my lips. He looked into my eyes and kissed me, and I felt confused by this attention, this _care_ he emanated.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I looked at him intently, willing him to understand that this couldn't possibly happen. He grinned and brought his hands to my waist, moving up, slowly higher until they were touching the sides of my breasts. I clenched my hands around his hair and pulled him closer, deepening our kiss again, standing on tiptoe now that I was barefoot. When he still didn't do anything, I took his hand and put in right on top of my breast.

The moment the rough skin touched me I swayed, and he had to quickly encircle my body with his other arm and steady me. I couldn't help it… I laughed. This was due to the pent-up tension needing to leave my body, and not because I found the situation particularly funny.

But Booth smiled, and our eyes met honestly for the first time.

"Once." He said.

"This once." I answered.

And after that no more words were spoken. Time now sped up, blurring into a maddening need to touch him everywhere, to lick that scarred finger and put it in my mouth, to hear his groans of pleasure as many times as possible…

To feel his hands on my breasts, touching and teasing sounds from me I hadn't known myself capable of emitting. The water still falling on us only made everything better, slicker, faster. The crash of thunder was a soft breeze compared to Booth's panting breaths. The flash of lightning was a faint glow before Booth's eyes, burning with savage hunger. The freezing cold had nothing on Booth. He was warm enough, strong enough. He was enough.

When my hands unbuckled his belt he licked my nipple and the kissed it, and I had to stop because it was difficult to feel so many things at once. We crashed to the floor, and he grabbed me and flipped us so he was on top. But I was having none of that. If a single drop of water fell on my eye, obscuring my vision for an instant, I wouldn't be able to bear it. So I smiled and, in a quick movement, beat him down.

The fabric of his pants was impossible to negotiate because my fingers were shaking slightly with cold, and the wet made it cling tighter. Booth got rid of them himself, and I finally saw the extent of his arousal, tenting his underwear.

I could feel everything; every blink of his eyes and every indentation in his skin. Every scar, which I kissed and healed. Every single splash of water falling on my bare back, every drop from my hair onto his chest.

His hands slid up my thighs, moving the dress up with them, higher, higher until I was only wearing my panties. Everything was a blur. I needed to have him inside, now. I couldn't speak, but my moan was enough and he understood.

He tore the final barrier away, breaking the fabric until it was no longer there and I was completely naked. The water, our bodies, the frenzy of pleasure and desire was too much. "Please…" I panted, feeling tears stinging my eyes again. "Please, _now_…"

I couldn't bear anymore. It was almost painful, this aching need, almost _frightening_. He kissed me quickly with passion, and I tore his underwear away.

And then put his hands on my hips and in a brutal gesture lifted me up with only his arms.

He brought me down so that we fit, exactly, and he felt so perfect and large it only took ten seconds for me to explode into a million pieces of pleasure. My scream was wrenched away from my body and the storm took it from me, but Booth heard. And when he shouted out, I heard and felt it too, and he made me come again just because it was me, _I_ was making him feel like this. It was the most fantastic thing I'd ever felt in my entire life.

A warmth that defied the cold all around us spread through my body like wildfire. It was more than pleasure. It was love. I was in love with Booth and he'd been right. There was no such thing as _just _sex...

My nerve-endings fizzed and the spasms rocking my body meant I couldn't control the words pleasure ripped from my mouth. His name, oh fuck everything about him, wordless exclamations, swear words, oh God, _everything. _Hearing him with me only made it better, hearing him scream my name and swear as much as I was, feeling him shudder with the pleasure I had caused, cursing his God and his heaven...

I finally shuddered back into myself, exhausted, and I fell on top of him. His hands gripped the hair on the base of my neck so tightly... I kissed him deeply, beginning to shiver but not feeling the cold. Not yet, because he was right there and I lay against him feeling perfectly safe.

Quiet on the white steps, with the loud rain all around us, naked, soaked, freezing, we still kissed, still entwined in each other. Only one thing was missing, only a detail which would have completed my bliss. I couldn't whisper in his ear the words which begged to be spoken even now as I looked into his eyes, for once unafraid.

'I love you, Booth.' I wished I could say. The thunder was still rolling, but he'd hear. 'I love you, I love you, I love you…'

Instead, I looked into his eyes, and surely my secret would be revealed now? Surely he'd realise? Water clung to his eyelashes and I let myself kiss them, softly. He looked at me with fascination. Like I was something special, with that expression he'd already let me see twice before. He kissed a drop right on the corner of my lips and I smiled. He kissed me again, but soon he stopped because _only once_.

Only… once.

When tears slid down my cheeks he propped himself up and licked them away, his rough hand stroking my cheeks. I wondered how he could tell I was crying if the pouring rain barely let me see, but I didn't ask. Words would ruin this moment, this precious jewel I would keep forever.

He put his arms around me and held me closer, murmuring words I couldn't understand, soothing, with his deep voice, like a lullaby.

We stayed like this, and I'd never felt so peaceful in my entire life.

And then…

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

Six.

Five.

Four…

Three…

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_**You know what to do.**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**I am speechless. Guys, really, **__**the response for the last chap was incredible! I was kind of nervous, to tell the truth, but I'm dancing around right now! **_

_**Thank you! I can't mention every single person, but I hope you all understand I've read each and every comment and they all meant a lot to me!**_

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**CHAPTER 19**

When I began to shiver he held me tighter, but it was useless. The shaking didn't stop, and now was time to face the real world again. He reached out and grabbed his jacket.

"Put it on, Bones. You'll freeze."

I shook my head, giving it back to him. Only now was I beginning to feel the bruises I'd have tomorrow. Booth would have fared worse than I. Would he let me fix his back this time?

"Bones. Are you okay?" he sat up, managing to look concerned even though we were still both completely naked, and sitting side my side on the steps of the Jeffersonian. I couldn't believe it had just happened here. Here, out of every place where… _here_?

"Just cold. If we get back inside my lab coat is in my office."

"Okay. Quick, then." He stood and I let my eyes watch him, rivulets of rain running down his broad back and perfect gluteus. He looked like something out of a fantasy, not real.

I put my dress back on, without the bra or my panties, both of which were in no state to be worn again. The blue fabric clung to my body like a second skin, and really impeded my movements. Booth had put his pants back on as well, but his underwear was still on the floor. His shirt was completely torn.  
"What are we going to do?" I asked, standing up and looking around for my shoes. The were a few steps down. He took so long to answer I though he hadn't heard me, first. The rain was still very loud.

"About… what?" he finally said.

"The party. Everyone worried about us."

"Oh, that. Let's just get warm again before we get hypothermia, Bones. We can decide about that after I've made sure you're not going to die of a cold in the United States after all." I smiled at the floor.

"Right."

He put his jacket on but not his shirt, and I began climbing the steps. The knowledge was shattering. All this… knowledge. I knew. I knew now. It would break me, this knowing. Knowing it all. All that I should know I knew! I'd seen, I'd felt, we'd… oh God…!

"Bones, wait up."

I turned around, now safe under the Jeffersonian's roof. How did he do it? I was about to have a profound personal crisis and he brought me back to reality with two words. Wait up? I'd just had the best sex of my life on the front steps to the entrance of my workplace and he said… _wait up_?

I waited.

And to my horror, realised why he'd asked me to.

He still stood right where we'd… right there. He was looking at the floor and I saw what was troubling him. Before I could run, however, he spoke. "I can't. I'm sorry, you have to come back out but I can't touch them, I can't deal with it if I… nope. Not happening, Bones."

I ran outside again and grabbed the bra and panties off the floor. I didn't even glance at him when I passed him because I couldn't, but he waited for me. Once the two items were firmly balled up and in my hand, we walked side by side and the automatic doors opened for us.

*

Any other time, I would have flat-out asked. "Does this have serious ramifications on our relationship?" or "Do you think we'll be able to work together again after all that has happened?", maybe "Can our partnership continue to function flutenly given our sexual attraction?" or simply "What's going to happen, Booth?"

But I didn't. Something held me back, and I resented it because this wasn't me.

"Bones… I think I'm going to wait here, okay?"

We had just passed the platform, and Booth stopped walking.

"Why?"

"Another step… no, I can't. You… I can't. Just go change and…"

"Booth, what's wrong?" I turned to look at him, wearing only his jacket and not his shirt, still dripping water too close to my precious equipment.

"Nothing. The… you. The dress. The water. Everything." For a moment it felt like it had outside again: time stood still, the distance between us was infinitesimal, it would be so easy to give in…

Then he turned away. "Go change, Bones."

I nodded and strode away, heels clicking loudly with every step I took. I wrenched open the door to my office and quickly took the lab coat hanging from the hook next to the door. No underwear and no clothes… should I take off the dress?

The cold was making me shiver again, and I decided the dress would need to go. Security cameras pointed everywhere in here, so I'd have to change inside the closet. Fantastic.

Once I was done, I buttoned every single possible stitch and look at myself in the mirror. My eyes looked like I'd been crying ink, and my hair hung in strands around my face. I tried to remove some of the black make-up and managed not to appear quite so much like a clinically insane woman, then quickly went back outside.

*

"Hey."

"Hi."

We stood facing each other, the dim lights still too bright.

"We should converse." I said firmly.

He burst out laughing.

"What?"

"_We should converse_." He mimicked my serious tone and then started laughing again. "I'm sorry, Bones. You're just…" the laughter slowly died as his expression filled with something I didn't understand. "You're…"

"I meant it, Booth."

"Yeah. Sorry, you're right. We…" he smiled again. "We should talk."

And yet neither of us seemed to be able to say anything.

"You've always made it abundantly clear that there can't ever be an emotional connection between us, Booth." I said flatly.

"I…"

"And that you don't want one. _Many_ times, you've said it. I understand." He didn't speak, he simply looked at me. I sensed something was wrong… I'd forgotten something… oh! "And I agree, of course." I added quickly.

"Right. Well, you've also said it about a million times, Bones."

I felt like I was being chastised.

"Well, yes, but you…"

"Just once, Bones."

"What?"

"I've only said that to you once."

"Oh."

Was something happening? I wished I could ask Booth, who was the person I'd usually turn to, but he was the one person I _couldn't_. Was something changing right before my eyes? Was this a _moment_?

"So we agree?" I said hesitantly.

"Agree on what?"

"That there can't ever be an emotional connection… that there isn't one. That today was…"

"Don't say mistake." His tone made me jump. I hadn't been about to say it anyway, but he scared me with the sharpness in his voice.

"No, that's not what I was going to say. Today was something that can't happen again… correct?"

"Right. I just want you to know…" he a ran hand through his hair, and the water flew off in every direction; including me. I wiped my face with the sleeve of the coat and he smiled. "I want you to know that I…" he took a deep breath. "You…"

"Explain." I asked quietly, hoping he'd understand. I needed him to explain.

"Emotional connection." He suddenly said. "Feelings, attraction, all that… I… you don't feel that way about me, right?"

Once again time froze, but for a different reason now. I thought we'd aleady established this. Why was he making me lie over and over again? Didn't he know that eventually, because _everything happens eventually_, he'd catch me and find out the truth? I looked at him but he wasn't looking at me, he was looking at a point somwhere above my shoulder.

"You don't." He answered himself. "We've always been just partners. I knew this." And almost to himself, he added with a rush of feeling. "_I knew this_."

I didn't know what to do or say. Was it lying if I didn't contradict his false statements?

"Friends, though, right?" and finally he lowered his gaze and I could answer something that had basis in truth.

"Of course we're friends, Booth."

He nodded, smiling.

"So today…"

"Now…"

"Only once." He echoed. I didn't notice, but my arms instinctively hugged my chest as if to protect my body from a blow that didn't come. Or had already come.

"So… we'll stay friends? Partners?"

"Yeah, Bones. Of course. What would I do if you weren't there to correct my every sentence?"

"I don't correct your _every_ sentence. I merely try and improve your scientific vocabulary."

"Right, because your normal vocabulary is already so well-honed."

"That's how _you_ help _me_."

"I know. I mean, Charlize Theron, Bones!"  
He chuckled, and I smiled sheepishly.

In the silence I heard the distant sounds of the party. Low music drifted down here from upstairs, and the clink of glasses, the meaningless chatter in the background. I raised my eyebrows in question.

"Nah. Let's just go home. I don't feel like explaining…"

"Me neither." I said vehemently.

"Great. Let's go, Bones." He turned and I followed him, feeling the uncomfortable roughness of my lab coat against my bare skin as I walked. The heels clicked on, unaware of what had happened.

"Bones, before we go…"

He stopped walking and turned around. His chest glimmered in the dim light, and when he moved the water shone. I prepared myself for what came now. "… before we go, Bones… this meant something."

I hadn't expected _this_.

"This meant…" he took a deep breath. "… something, okay? This wasn't just sex. This wasn't meaningless. Not something I can easily forget either, do you understand? I'll be okay, we'll be fine, but this wasn't nothing. This was _something_."

"I know. You're right, remember? I know."

He smiled, but his eyes remained dark.

"Booth… _the center_." I said softly.

"Yeah, that's what I meant. The center."

We were one. We were together at the center of so many things… and we had to hold. Not just for the things around us… but for _us_.

In a breath he put his arms around me and held tight. This hug was different than the rest, because one of his hands caressed my hair, and I buried my face on the hollow in his neck, the same place where I'd kissed him such a short time ago. I breathed in his scent and thanked his invisible entity for still being able to hug him. Because I didn't believe it could hear me. I didn't believe it existed…

But he did.

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_**I hope the chap made up for the wait!**__** And nooow… I feel like the past few chaps have been full of NOT-fluff. Most of the story is fluff-less, but these have been definite NONE-fluffy chaps. Fluff is healthy. I think we should fluff some fluff for the next chap, don't you?**_

_**Or do you?**_

_**Tell me!**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Thanks for the support!**__** The fluff is at the end of the chap, unfortunately, because the beginning is anything but. Sorry! ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 20**

"_Where did you go? What the hell __happened, Brennan? I was so worried! Dammit, you need to trust me!"_

"Angela please… _listen_. I'm sorry! I'm very sorry!"  
_"I don't care! I don't… shit, yes I do but Bren… why didn't you call me? Why didn't you at least say goodbye? I try and give you the space you need, I understand why you need it, but God, give me something to go on…! I feel alone in this friendship, Brennan. All alone."_

A single tear slid down my face and fell on the pillow.

"Angela… come over to my house."

"_What?"_

"Come over. I'll listen. I'll hear everything and I'll _help_. Come. Now. It's kind of early I suppose…" I took a deep breath. It would be painful, but "I'll be a bit late for work. It won't kill either of us. Come and we'll talk."

There was a rush of static as she sighed.

"_Okay. Thank you, Brennan. But you'll have to talk too."_

"I know."

"_See you now."_

"Bye."

I hung up and got up off the bed. For a moment I stood there in my favourite shirt, and didn't know what to do or how to move. What… how did one walk? I'd forgot. And breathing… that was tougher than it seemed. Every delicious bruise in my body was there because of Booth, and I couldn't remember how to stand.

I fell back on my bed and hugged my body, smelling Booth in everything, everywhere, around me, in me, over me… and I remembered his look when he asked where I got the shirt.

A memory invaded my mind. After a particularly tiring case he'd driven me home and I'd insisted he come upstairs. Not just because it was harder every day to say goodbye to him, but because his eyes kept closing dangerously as he drove, and I didn't want him to have an accident. So I made him stay and sleep (it wasn't the first time, anyway). He was sprawled on the couch and I woke up to see his large frame illuminated by the morning light, and even in his sleep he made me smile.

He drove me to work that morning too, and his shirt stayed behind because I leant him one of Russ's. And I forgot it was even there, I forgot it was even his until one day I wore it to sleep and I _slept_.

So now I knew why he'd acted so strangely when he saw me wearing it. The shirt was Booth's.

I didn't take it off as I began to cry.

*

She'd been crying too. The sight of her sad face only strengthened my resolve to fix this. Because this was something that I could do, instead of ruining it. Ever since last night I felt off-guard, as if my world had suddenly tilted to the side: everything seemed different, and nothing made sense. And I was defying gravity.

Well, this I _would_ make sense of. More than that… I would make this right.

Her first words were of me, not her.

"You look special."

Angela saw things. She had the ability to discern and untangle feelings and thoughts like I solved equations and puzzles. Angela, like Booth, went beyond images. Her mind didn't simply process the colours and interpret the shapes. She saw more.

"What does that mean?" I asked as I closed the door behind her. She shrugged off her coat and walked toward the couch heavily, tiredly.

"It means that when you tell me what's been happening these past few days, I'll have one hell on an 'I told you so' moment. It's a pity I haven't invented a special dance move yet."

"Huh?"

She grinned. "I'll explain about 'I told you so' dances another time, Bren, okay?"

"Sure."

For a few moments a friendly silence settled over the apartment. Then I decided to take control. I walked over, sat down next to Angela and took her hand. "I'm listening now, Angela"

She nodded, and began to talk.

Hodings.

I hadn't expected this. Maybe it had been my lack of perception when it came to observing other people interact, but both Angela and Hodgins had seemed fine after their abrupt end. I hadn't realised that three years is a long time… and two of those as a couple? The end was bound to be something you didn't forget in a day. Apparently, not something you forgot in months either.  
I held her when she cried and tried to be as supportive and consoling as I could, without thinking of my own problems even for a moment. The only stray thought went to the time, something I couldn't stop my over-analysing brain from doing, because Anne Stoker didn't have any, and I was late for work for the first time in… too long.

When it was over Angela wiped the last tears from her face and smiled. "Thank you, Temperance." She said with feeling. I nodded, smiling back, and stood to leave. Twenty minutes late if we left now and I didn't eat breakfast.

"Wait. Bren, what about… you? What happened yesterday?"

I couldn't help myself. "Booth. Booth happened."

When she didn't say anything, I let the words escape.

"We had sex."

To my surprise Angela nodded gravely. "Okay. We'll talk about this when you're ready. Thank you for telling me, Bren. Let's go to work."

I almost began to cry in relief that she let me have this day, and grabbed a nutritious cereal bar to eat on my way to the car.

*

"This is a historical day!" Hodgins exclaimed, managing a grin. "Dr Brennan is late for work! _Twenty-two_ minutes late! I should write this down, I should take a picture, I should…!"

"Shut up, Hodgins." Angela said, rolling her eyes and smiling. I smiled too and donned my other lab coat. The first was still at home, being washed.

"Let's get to work then, shall we? Where is Dr Saroyan?"

"Over here, Dr Brennan!" Cam called from the platform. Jeanie Whitmore's remains were on the observation table. As I walked up the stairs and stood next to her she said quietly: "Listen, about yesterday… I'm sorry if it made you feel uncomfortable, coming to that fundraiser. But it was important, I hope you understand… these things are part of my job too. Keeping the bosses and their friends happy, and I don't like it either. So you don't have to worry about leaving so early, okay? I told them you had called me saying you felt too sick to stay."

"Thank you." Cam was the last person I'd expected to be on my side, and knowing she was brought more calm to my agitated mind.

We worked comfortably for an hour, determining the exact force of the blow, which in turn told us the weight of the attacker. It was slightly over Kevin Stoker's weight, but still possibly his. Cam insisted on comparing it to Frank Bram's, and he fit within the possibilities as well. I even found a new micro-fracture to Jeanie's kneecap, possibly sustained when she was tripped and fell, adding validity and evidence to the scenario Angela and I had posited.

I was typing this latest fact into my notes inside my office when my phone rang.

"_Forgot to check again, didn't you?"_

I hadn't expected just his voice to bring it all back. Seeing him, yes. But just his voice…? Apparently it was enough. I stood up from my chair and paced around the room, feeling trapped.

"No I didn't, actually." Even though it was useless, I tried.

"_You don't know how to lie, Bones. I'll teach you someday."_

"What's the matter, Booth?"

"_Does something have to be __'the matter' for me to call you?"_

There was a pause as I considered this. "I don't think you would have called me otherwise." I admitted.

"_You're wrong then."_

After a few seconds, he reluctantly added. "_But something has happened_."

I grinned. "Ha! I knew this."

There was a chuckle from the other end of the line. "_Got me there, Bones_."

"If you were here I'd…"

"_You'd what_?" the curiosity in his voice was strange, unhealthy. Too eager. "_You'd what, Bones_?"

"Nothing. It was silly of me to say. What's happened?"

"_Agent __Keller, the one handling Kevin Stoker's escape from prison… he just gave me his report."_

"So we know what happened?"

Someone tapped my shoulder and I turned impatiently. Booth spoke into his phone right in front of me: "I'll tell you everything when I see you."

We both hung up at the same time without looking away.

"Hey."

"Hi."

I blinked and for the instant during which my eyes were closed, the image of his soaking chest and me licking his earlobe flashed behind my eyelids.

"So how did he do it?" I asked, clearing my throat.

"He didn't."

"What?"

"Stoker didn't escape, it's impossible. The security cameras were fully functioning the entire time, and no one saw him leave his cell. His cell mate is a suspect for murder, and they're going to search the premises right now."

"_What_? But he called Mrs Stoker five days ago from a disposable cell phone… he had to escape!"

"Mrs Stoker lied, then."

"But who… all those murders, the women… Anne Stoker…"

"Someone else had to do that."

I sat down on the couch, my mind reeling. All our assumptions had been wrong… unless Kevin Stoker had found a way to fool the prison's inhabitants and it's security system. Unlikely.

Who was left? What was left? All the scenarios we'd prepared… all that work in trying to understand what was happening… Frank Bram? Was he responsible, like we'd first thought?

"Bones, I came here because Keller said that we could come along, see if they found anything when they search the prison."

"Sure. I'll get my things." I unbuttoned my lab-coat in a trance-like state, still thinking furiously.

"I told him it was pointless to tell you not to come, that a woman like you inside a prison would cause a riot."

"Did he disagree?"

"Yeah. He told me to tie you to a chair if I had to."

"Will you?"

"Tie you to a chair? Nah, you'd break free, I'm pretty sure. And I've only got one pair of cuffs on me now. To waste them like that... actually doesn't seem like such a bad idea."

I laughed, and he smiled his most charming smile. He seemed comfortable with suggesting that the image of me cuffed to a chair was sexually alluring. What a curious change in attitude. What a strange new form of emotional torture. How weird that it didn't feel like torture at all, and instead I was giddy and couldn't help but smile back.

"So I can come?"

"I told him it was pointless to tell you that I'm going to be by your side every single step, because if one of the convicts so much as looks at you I swear I'll shoot him." He said sternly.

I rolled my eyes.

"Booth, I can take care of myself."

"Sure you can. But everyone's telling me I'm crazy to let you come, and I agree."

"Why did you tell me, then? Why did you come here at all?" I asked.

"Because I couldn't resist." He murmured.

"Couldn't resist what?"

"Never mind. I came because I knew you had a right to come. Screw the risks. Together we're invincible."

I smiled sadly, thinking of yesterday and of how every time I blinked, more images flashed at me: gleaming bodies, cold rain, white marble steps, the look on his face...

"Invincible." I echoed. But the moment was beginning to feel too solemn. "Can I drive to the prison?"

"No. You don't know the way!"

"GPS could tell me how to get there…"

"Not happening, Bones…"

Comfortably arguing once more, we left my office. Thank goodness we took the elevator the parking lot of the Jeffersonian and didn't leave by the front steps.

As Booth drove, my thoughts went back to the case. To Anne. I clung to the hope that we didn't know for sure that Mr Stoker was dead. He might have found a way to escape. He was smart, right? Maybe Agent Keller was wrong. We didn't know Mr Stoker hadn't bribed a guard. We didn't know that the case had just fallen apart.

We didn't know anything anymore.

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_**Okay, so you might have to wait a little for the fluff. But it will present itself when you least expect it, I promise. The case is also important, you know! Everyone seems keen to comment on the Booth/Brennan aspect, but… are you interested in the case as well?**__** ;) Because the ending is going to be explosive!**_

_***Bites review-addict nails in hopes of another dose***_


	21. Chapter 21

_**Thank you thank you thank yoooou!!! **_

_**W**__**ithout further ado, the chapter:**_

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**CHAPTER 21**

"So Bones… any thoughts on Anne Stoker and Jeanie Whitmore? Does Angela have any more ideas on how they are connected? On how Anne saw the body?"

"I don't think so… But Booth, I was thinking."

"_Really_?"

"Yes."

He chuckled, looking away from the road for a moment to glance at me and shake his head, smiling.

"It was an expression, Bones. I know you were… never mind. What were you thinking?"

"Has anyone spoken to Margaret Stoker? I mean… she lied to us, she mislead us on purpose, right? Is she a suspect? It doesn't seem to me that she has her daughter's best interests…"

"No, Bones." He said firmly.

"No you haven't tried to contact her or no…"

"I've got an Agent interrogating her right now if he did as he was told. I meant no, it isn't possible that that woman didn't have her daughter's best interests at heart. She loves her daughter, Bones. But she _is_ a suspect."

"I don't understand your reasoning."

"Wouldn't be the first time… it's not logical, Bones, that's why you don't understand."

"Oh. But maybe she was lying… she looks like a really good actress, Booth."  
"No, Bones. I'm right about this."

I lapsed back into silence, calculating, wondering.

"We're there, Bones."

I looked out the car window to see the Washington DC Penitentiary looming ahead of us. It was an enormous, plain, grey and rectangular building surrounded by several fences topped with barbed wire. From the car I could see a basketball hoop in the distant yard, and it felt out of place in this scenery. I sighed. There was no one outside, even though the watch tower was clearly active.

As we waited for the security guards to clear our entrance, Booth glanced at me uneasily.

"Booth, we'll be fine."

"I know _I_'ll be fine. I'm just worried… I know you've been here before, but the visitor's wing has nothing to do with the actual cell-block. And I think Agent Keller said we went through the one of the corridors in Security Level 1 before getting to the Stoker's cell. You know, before, when he was trying to convince me _not_ to let you come."

"Booth…"

"If one of the guards tries to do anything…"

"I'll kick his ass. Promise."

He grinned. "You'd better."

The guard came back with our ID's and Security Passes which he gave to Booth. Instead of leaving, however, he leant on the window. "You're free to go inside guys, but I'd recommend the lady stay out here."

I rolled my eyes. Men.

"Can you please just open the gate?" I said, annoyed.

The guard shrugged. "Suit yourself, babe."

Booth groaned as we drove inside. "Why does everyone keep calling you that?"

*

The jeers and catcalls began seconds after the door opened and I stepped inside the corridor. Not only the prisoners, the guards too. Booth looked positively murderous, and despite my assurances I couldn't help but feel the slightest twinge of unease. The dank smell didn't help, or the way sound carried inside this white-walled ample space.

The cell where Kevin Stoker used to be was on the second floor, but to get there we had to go up the metal steps at the end of this hallway. Security Level 1 meant that the men shouting at me had murdered someone. I shivered, disgusted.

On either side of us they banged on the walls, laughed, reached out as though to touch us. Thankfully they got nowhere near, and anyway most of them couldn't get more than their forearms through the bars. Their voices rang rude in my ears, men asking for my name, other yelling much plainer and dirtier thoughts. Some even called at Booth, which made me smirk and brought another round of louder shouting. I tried not to make eye-contact and followed the guard who was leading us forward. Booth walked right beside me, and after one particularly burly-looking man shouted: "Hey lady, come over here and I'll show you!" my partner took my hand in his. I didn't look at him and he didn't look at me, but I felt his rapid pulse and the slight tremble in his fingers, and he must have felt my own hand cling tightly to his.

When we began to climb the steps the voices gradually faded, and eventually the guard at the door stopped staring at my ass and closed it behind him.

The guard who was taking us grinned at me, but he didn't say anything insulting and at least seemed polite.

"You can take a breather if you want, and we'll go down the next corridor in a second."

I raised my eyebrows. "I don't need…"

"One minute." Booth interrupted.

The guard chuckled. "It was a bad idea to come here, honey. The prisoners haven't seen something as damn hot as you for a long time. Most of them never."

"Okay, pal, let me just stop you right there." Booth said, stepping in front of me. I fought the urge to kick him or to intervene and remind him of my ability to take care of myself. Instead, I watched.

"She's with me, get it asshole?" as he said this he snaked an arm possessively around my waist, drawing me closer. "Enough with the flirting and the looks. Just take us to Agent Keller and his team and _shove the fuck off_, all right?"

So we were a couple in here as well. Fantastic. When would Booth learn that I didn't need protecting? I was independent and strong enough.

"Relax, dude. She's hot, you must be used to this sort of thing."

"I never get used to it. Now let's just get this over with." And to my (and the guard's) surprise, Booth let go of me, shoved the man to the door and then proceeded to lean against the wall, looking like a dangerous animal about to attack.

Talk about over-protective alpha-male.

So we finally walked past more shouting prisoners and I saw Agent Keller and his techs outside Stoker's cell. Booth took my hand again as we walked, and a couple of the interns yelled louder because of that, but we ignored them.

"Booth."  
"Hey John. What have you guys found so far?"

He hadn't let go of my hand yet, but I pretended that he had so that I could focus on the facts before us.

"You're not going to believe this Booth." Keller said, motioning for him to go inside. He hadn't even glanced at me, and I knew why. Keller was a veteran Agent in his mid sixties (which in FBI speak was very old, or so Booth said), and he'd been against taking me (a squint) into the field from the start. This was obviously part of 'the field'.

"Have you found Stoker's remains?"

"See for yourself."

The two techs inside the cell stepped out to give us space, and I saw what Keller had meant immediately. There were two bunk-beds, and the sheets and pillow had been removed from the bottom one. The stench I knew too well filled this small enclosure, and I wondered for how long this cell mate had expected to hide the body without being found out. It had taken us four days.

One of the techs had cut the top off of the mattress horizontally, so that I was looking at a thick foam rectangle that had been patchily hollowed out… and stuffed inside; the body of Kevin Stoker.

There was a surprising lack of blood, which suggested death by asphyxiation the most likely scenario. Stoker had been dead before being put inside the mattress, however, because there were no claw marks or signs of a struggle. How often did they clean the inside of a cell in here? Had it been as easy as hanging a sheet so that no one saw what happened, and then hidden the body? There had to be more accomplices, prisoners to corroborate the alibi for the cell mate or create more confusion for the guards. Maybe even one of the guards was helping. And did no one know how to search a six square meter room anymore? Although the smell admittedly wouldn't have been there on the first day, surely it should have been noticed?

"This prison has a pretty big security problem." Booth said.

"They all do, Booth." Keller replied from outside.

"So where's the cell mate? He's the main suspect, right?"

"Yeah, and the only one. No one else could have done this."

Booth nodded, looking away from the corpse.

"Okay, is he admitting to the murder?"

"He hasn't said anything yet, but I'm sure it won't take much."

"Good, call me as soon as we know something."

After demanding the remains be shipped to the Jeffersonian so Cam could examine them properly, I decided to leave with Booth. We all had to speak with shouts because the chorus of men around us was too loud, and I wanted to get back to the lab anyway.

"Updates as often as possible, okay John?"

"Sure thing, Booth."

"Goodbye." I said politely to Keller. He nodded my way, which was something, and Booth took my hand again as we walked away. The contact, as innocent as it was, reminded me of something that wasn't: our hands intertwined as I lay naked on top of him, safe from the cold for a few moments as he whispered in my ear…

I wrenched my hand out of his.

To my surprise, he flashed a look of… _anger_… at me and snatched it back. "No. You don't get to do that, Bones." He said firmly, staring straight ahead.

I looked at him, forgetting for a moment where we were. He didn't turn to meet my eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips and I leant slightly closer, so that when we walked our arms brushed.

Suddenly Booth's phone rang. He answered immediately, let go of my hand and went running ahead to hear what the other person was saying.

"What?" I heard him shout. And then. "What!"

"Booth!" I yelled, striding fasted. "What's wrong?"

"Shit!" he shouted, punching the wall next to the door we were waiting the guard to open. "I trusted you to do this, Finn!" He yelled into his phone. "Organise a search immediately! Fuck!"

I reached him just as the guard opened the door. As soon as the door was closed I rounded on my partner.

"What's happened? Booth, what's wrong?"

"Margaret Stoker has disappeared."

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_**Come on, there was a holding hands moment! How is that not fluffy?**_

…

_**Fine. So this chap wasn't exactly Booth bathing in whipped cream. But the fluff will come, don't you worry. **_

_**Although probably immersed in angst somewhere.**_

_**;)**_

_**Kidding.**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**Read read read read READ!  
And then review.**_

_**;)**_

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**CHAPTER 22**

"She's just… disappeared?"

"_Yes_. Somehow she eluded the Marshalls watching her and escaped. Or the person who took her did."

"The same person who kidnapped Anne?"

"Probably."

"Probably, Booth?"

"Look, Bones, let's just get out of here and think, okay? I… shit, I need to think for a moment. This is… two lives, now, okay? Two lives that I…"

"Okay. Okay, we'll leave. It will be all right, Booth."

"…"

"Trust me."

"…"

"Are you two done hugging? 'Cause I've been holding this door open for a while now… Hey, not that this isn't entertaining, I mean the look on your face, dude? Priceless. Just _kiss_ the girl, she's your _girlfriend_… I think she wouldn't be too upset."

"Shut up, asshole. I still haven't forgiven you."

"_Don__'t just stand at the door! Walk to us, honey!"  
"What's your name, FBI chick?"_

"_You're so hot I'll…!"_

"_This boner is for you, princess!"_

"_Damn!"_

"Look, your friends are happy to see you again, babe…"

"Stop calling her that."

"Shut up, Booth. You… what's your name? Earl? It says so on your uniform, don't look so surprised. Earl, your Intelligence Quotient seems to be abnormally lower than the average, but understand this: unless you shut your mouth during the rest of our visit I'll punch you so hard your neurons won't be able to handle synapses and you'll actually _be_ as stupid as you look."

*

"Bones, that was really cool."

I tried not to smile and looked out the window of the car. Booth thought I was cool.

"Seriously, you were fantastic! I mean… the guy looked like you _had_ punched him! Ha! You're… brilliant!"  
I couldn't help it. I leant my forehead against the window, half embarrassed and half delighted, hoping he wouldn't catch the big grin on my face. And then I remembered why we were driving to the Hoover Building, and the grin vanished. It was hard to maintain this balance between my life and my… other life.

"Booth, we need to find Margaret Stoker. She knew everything."

He didn't answer. I still kept my forehead on the cool glass, though, and watched colours and shapes whirl past us.

"Booth. She lied. What if the person she loved the most was herself?"

He still didn't answer. I turned to look at him.

"Booth."

His eyes shone, and I knew Booth didn't cry, he'd never cried, but he was about to. "Booth, look at me."

"I'm driving."

"Then stop the car."

He robotically parked on the first free space he found, and continued to stare ahead.

"I didn't see her picture. Anne's. I didn't want to, but _you_ saw her. She was pretty. I know even though I didn't see her. Blue eyes, right? Long dark hair. Pale skin, like her mother?"

He just nodded, breathing heavily. His eyes no longer shone, but I would have preferred if they had; now they were dark again, black, two holes that sucked light dangerously. My heart clenched (metaphorically) as I saw the hate in his features. It was a passionate anger I'd seen before, but I wasn't scared, as I hadn't been the last time I saw it. He was still Booth.

"She is a beautiful young girl. And she's scared and trapped, yes. Maybe her mother has been captured too. Maybe they are both in grave danger, and we are the only ones who can save them. Maybe they're being hurt. We both know how horrible humanity can become. We've seen how far the darkness can go." My voice was soft and true in the confined space of the car, but now he spoke, and the words chilled.

"You forgot dead."

"Booth…"

"Maybe they're already dead."

"We can't know. It's not logical to think…"

"Then _fuck_ logic!"

I looked at him seriously. "Booth, I understand that you need to feel this right now. I've felt it too. The helplessness, the fear. I know what you're feeling. I also know you're too familiar with these things, more than me. I wish it wasn't that way but this is what we do. It gets to us sometimes, and that's all right too, okay? Christ, the last time I felt this I ran out into a storm!"

He finally turned to look at me, and I knew what was going to happen before it did.

"No." I said firmly, shifting backwards. No matter how much I may want it, this was not the right way for things to happen.

He leant closer, like an unstoppable force, like gravity and I was the centre. Somehow managed to make the angles of his face sharper, more dangerous, predatory. The anger in his expression was still there, and everything combined made him powerful and frightening.

But I was perfectly matched to his level. I shook my head, drilling into his eyes, hoping the real Booth would come back once this moment was over. "Booth, no."

And then…

"Bones." He said in a breath. I nodded kindly, sensing the light coming back.

He hung his head and sat back properly on his seat. "What's with you, me, and cars, huh?"

I didn't smile, but I felt relieved. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'll be fine."

"I'm glad, Booth."

"It's just… the pressure, you know? The incredible responsibility. Two more lives which depend on me. And she… God, Bones, Anne… she looks exactly like you."

I felt a twinge of surprise, which I eradicated quickly.

"Her appearance is irrelevant to our…" I began quietly.  
"Yes but her eyes. You should have seen her expression in that picture… she was smiling but shy, as though she wasn't used to…" for a moment he seemed to lose his trail of thought, still staring into my eyes, but then he plunged on. "… as though she didn't smile enough, you know? I know you hate it when I make a judgement on a person based on a picture, but…"

"I don't hate it. Angela does the same thing you do. I just think it can be… inaccurate, but I understand that some of these things are beyond my capabilities. I accept my limitations."

He nodded without looking away from me yet. I felt a little uncomfortable holding his gaze, just because I was generally unaccustomed to feeling quite as exposed as Booth made me feel sometimes. Now was one of those times, when I felt like a book being read.

"Booth, it doesn't change with time, does it? It doesn't fade, the anxiety?"

"Of course not. It's what makes us human. It keeps us sane, Bones."

"Then you're human."

He reluctantly chuckled. "Yeah, that I am. You remind me every second."

"I don't know what that means."

"Nothing." But it didn't feel like 'nothing'. Not when his eyes looked like that. "It doesn't mean anything, Bones."

He reached a hand and put it on my cheek. I froze. I'd thought his momentary impulse had faded. What now? How many times could I say 'No' to him?

Upon seeing my expression, he flinched in regret. "No, I'm not…" he tucked a stray lock behind my ear, then drew back sheepishly. "It was just distracting."

"Oh." I still hadn't moved an inch. Like a ghost touch, I still felt his warm fingers brushing my cheek, neck, hair…

"I'm sorry Bones. Thanks for not… I was being a jerk. You know… before. And I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's all right."

He leant forward again and drew me close for a slightly awkward yet sweet embrace.

"Okay. I'm back now."

I smiled. "_We're_ back."

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_**I know, I know. It's very short**__**. But the next chap will be longer than usual, so it TOTALLY makes up for this. Besides, I posted one yesterday.**_

_**How's that for effective work? Does it matter than I'm slightly behind on my actual, real job? No. Am I proud that I just spent an hour writing instead of focusing on important stuff like studying? YES**_

_**;)**_

_**If you review the next chapter will be longer. Promise. **_

_**One more sentence per review.**_

_**Was that too petty? It was too petty, wasn't it? I know I've already got tons more reviews than I deserve, but it's a well known fact that addicts often keep increasing their dosage, desperate for more…**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**YAY! Finally I can login! I dunno what happened, s**__**ite problems, I guess. Oh well, hope this chap was worth the wait!**_

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**CHAPTER 23**

I woke to darkness in a car, an uncomfortable sitting position and the sound of my breath, too loud. For a moment panic gripped me, because I didn't know where I was. But I frantically looked outside and saw lights, so I wasn't trapped inside with hours to live… or die.

I was safe, and Booth was beside me speaking into his phone.

"I just want to make sure she…"

"Booth?"

Was it _my_ voice, sounding so child-like and frightened? It couldn't be, surely. I was still groggy from sleep.  
"Bones… hey, you're up."

I blinked rapidly to ease the contracting of my pupils and looked around. We were in the parking lot of the Hoover building, and Booth just hung up to whoever he'd been talking to mid-sentence. He turned to look and me with a concerned expression.

"Bones, you look a bit sick."

I looked sick? When had that happened?

I felt dizzy and confused. My mind tried to go back to earlier, when we'd gotten back on the road after our talk. Someone had called Booth to inform him that a team of FBI techs had been dispatched to Margaret's safe-house to sweep the place. He'd said something like 'Let's see if we find any evidence. If we don't we won't know for sure it's the same person, because our guy doesn't leave a trace behind. If we do, we won't know either because since the guy doesn't leave evidence behind we have nothing to compare it to…' and after that I couldn't remember a thing.

Had I been so exhausted that I'd simply fallen asleep listening to his voice?

"What… how long was I asleep?"

"The entire way since I began to drive again. Have you been sleeping well lately, Bones?"  
"I… I can't honestly…"

"Let me rephrase. Have you been sleeping at all?"  
I sat a bit further in my seat, feeling uncomfortably cornered. "I can't honestly…"

"Dammit, Bones, you need to take care of yourself! What about last night? Did you sleep at all?"

I shook my head, exasperated at his attitude, but also weary because Booth had a temper and right now he was _angry_.

"Was it because of the case?" he asked, and his voice sounded strangely hopeful. Of course. He was hoping it was because of a murderer and not because of him, because of what we'd done.

"I can't. No, it wasn't." I said, feeling my eyes glisten. I couldn't lie. "Last night wasn't because of the case."

He looked away from me and stared straight ahead. "Was it because you had a cold, Bones?"

"No, it wasn't because of that. I'm not sick, Booth."

So this was as close as he was going to go, wasn't it? As close to 'Was it because of me, Bones?' as he would get.

He didn't ask again, but the sentence was there in the air around us nevertheless.

So what choice did I have? Didn't Booth always say that not answering was like saying…

"Yes."

I answered the truth to his unspoken question. What else could I say? He'd forced me to do this and now he'd have to face the consequences. He had to know it had been more than sex, more than nothing, as he'd put it. I'd felt more. I loved him, for Christ's sake! Would he understand that I was admitting that I loved him?

I braced myself for another one of his "I'm sorry" speeches, but it never came.

"I slept, Bones."

"What?" the moisture in my eyes spilled over. He was outright telling me he'd felt nothing. Telling me he understood what I had meant and that he'd been just fine.

I stumbled out of the car, feeling dizzy again.

"Bones! No, wait…!" he got out and caught me before I could walk two steps. He cradled me into his arms and held me strongly, not so that I didn't escape, but so that I wouldn't fall.

I swayed where I stood, crying into his chest and feeling wretched and pathetic. "Bones…" he began, stroking my back. "I need you to tell me again that you don't feel anything."

"What?" I tried to push away, but he was too strong.

"Just… I need to hear it again right now or else I'm going to do something really stupid. Please. For me, Bones."

"Of course I feel….!"  
"No. I mean… romantically. You don't feel anything romantically, right? Just say that again. I need to hear that again, Bones."

I drew a deep, shuddering breath that smelled of Booth and whispered in his ear.

"I don't." I lied once more.

He seemed to deflate suddenly. "Thanks, Bones. I just… I'm a real asshole sometimes, I know that. I start to… I get confused, okay? Listen, I'm sorry you didn't sleep because you felt bad about what happened. I have no right to be angry at you for that. It's normal. I knew you might feel like that. It's okay. I'm sorry I got mad."

I didn't say anything. Correcting him felt like too much.

"Bones, I slept because I needed to dream. Dream that we could be somewhere together without the strange stuff that's been going on between us. You are my best friend, and I dreamt we could be just that and that it wasn't quite so hard, this _not kissing you_ business."

I stiffened in his arms and he squeezed tighter.

"Bones, I needed to dream that Anne and Margaret were safe at home, finally at peace. Dream that we had nowhere we needed to be. Just relaxing. That's why I slept. I went inside my apartment and ran to the bed without changing because I couldn't take it anymore."

"You slept with a wet suit jacket on?" I asked quietly, my voice muffled by him.

"Yeah. Shoes, too. You know what though? I dreamt I was riding a blue horse through a white forest."

I managed a strangled squeak of laughter.

"Booth…"

"No, listen." But I could hear the smile in his voice. "I need you to eat and sleep properly, Bones, okay? We are human, like you said. In all aspects."

I nodded awkwardly, movement restricted by his arms and the hollow of his throat.

As we drew apart, my lips accidentally brush his cheek. He look at me intently for a moment, wondering whether to ask me something.

But he didn't.

*

"Hey Booth, so far nothing of Mrs Stoker."

"Yeah, I guessed, Charlie."

We walked quickly, as though a fast pace would help staunch the sense of urgency building up like a ticking clock inside of us. The victims never had any signs of sexual assault, or of any form of torture, in fact, but the timeline… it took us a month to find each woman. One woman a month for four months. Four women. Helen, Lily, Sandra, Jeanie… and now Anne, Margaret. Anne was the strange link, the different one.

I was back on track. Rested and ready to focus once more.

One month. Almost a week since Anne had gone, but hours since Margaret had disappeared. What did it all mean? I tried to classify the facts and make sense of them as I could. We needed to look for Frank Bram, he was our main suspect now that Mr Stoker had disappeared.

Booth spoke quickly to Charlie, and his broad back looked contracted and tense. I fought the urge to offer help with that, and instead came up with an explanation… for the anomaly Anne presented.

"Booth!"

"What is it?"

"I think… okay, this isn't my area of expertise, but the killer liked women who looked like Margaret Stoker, right? Tall, dark hair, beautiful, strong women, intelligent, mid to late forties, and in a relationship with someone else."

"Yeah." Although he flinched at the words _beautiful_ and _relationship_, he didn't mention my fitting into the profile of the newly reinstated prime suspect. "What's your idea, Bones?"

"Well, Anne is nowhere near the age and she's not in a relationship, right?"

"Right."

"So… Anne doesn't fit the profile."

"No, Bones, she doesn't."

"What if Anne was bait?"

"Bait?" he repeated, not sounding surprised at all.

"Bait for Margaret. A way to get Margaret to… I don't know. This is all in _your_ area of expertise, anyway. But it could be, right?"

He nodded, still not looking either surprised or awed at my conclusion, which really annoyed me. "Yeah, Bones, I figured that's the reason Anne was taken. She was more than bait, though, she was bargaining and blackmail."

"You already _knew_? Why didn't you tell me?" I asked, feeling cheated.

"My area, right? My rules, Bones…" He smiled his charm smile and walked ahead, leaving me scowling after him. But not really frustrated anymore.

About the case.

"I don't like Bram for this." Charlie was saying to Booth when I caught up with them in his office. "I mean, he didn't even know Helen or Sandra, right?"

"Maybe not. Maybe he passed them on the street and that was enough. We don't know anything, Charlie. This is all… messed up. Go tell Peter to find me Bram once and for all, and bring him in for questioning again."

Charlie nodded and left. When he passed me by the door, he shot me an apologetic glance and whispered: "Good luck, Dr Brennan."

Good luck with what?

"Bones, do you want me to get you a car to get back to the Jeffersonian?"

"That's okay, I'll stay here with you. Cam is performing the autopsy on Kevin Stoker, and I don't work with _flesh_."

He gave a tired smile. "I'll never get tired of your prejudice against muscle and tendons, Bones."

"Actually, there are many types of body tissue, Booth, including bone. The adipose tissue, for example, also known as body fat…"

"Okay, Bones, I know."

Stupid Temperance. Telling him things he already knew. Booth was smart, and I wasn't because I kept forgetting.

"Yes, sorry."

"Don't apologise!" He grinned, a true charm smile (he was really using up his quota for today) of his and sat down on his desk. "Bones, I've got to do some stuff right now, and later I'm going to check out Margaret's safe house. You want to come?"

"Of course. Field work!"

"Yeah, field work. So I was thinking, while I do this stuff you can stay here in the department and when I finish we'll both go, that sound okay?"

I nodded.

"Great. Then would you mind…." The ringing phone cut him off. Booth picked it up, looking curious. "Booth."

I couldn't hear what the other voice said, but Booth's face went pale with shock.

"Send it to the Jeffersonian immediately. Yes, the Jeffersonian Institution. Now. Dr Temperance Brennan will examine it there."

And he slammed the phone down.

"Examine what, Booth?"

He turned to look at me with wide eyes, and an expression I knew too well.

"What is it, Booth? What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"Security intercepted a package meant for my office. It's a box with a lock of dark brown hair and a note…"

"What does it say?" The steel in my voice glinted in the light from the lamp in his office.

"'They're running out of time'."

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_**Oh yeah, stuff is happening!**_

_**Co**__**oooome on. Cooooome on now. There we gooooo… there we goooo! Review this Story/Chapter. Just like it says here. You can do it!**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Don't freak out on me, okay? Promise? I am not responsible for people shouting or stuff. Be warned.**_

_**You'll understand the above statement after reading the first few paragraphs.**_

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**CHAPTER 24**

I woke to darkness, an uncomfortable sitting position and the sound of my breath, too loud. For a moment panic gripped me, because I didn't know where I was. But I looked around and saw lights, so I wasn't trapped inside with hours to live… or die.

I was safe, and Booth's voice was close to me.

"Where is she! Where the fuck is she!"

"Booth?"

Was it _my_ voice, sounding so child-like and frightened? It couldn't be, surely. I was still groggy from sleep.

Suddenly I froze. Booth's voice was tinny, as though he was speaking on the phone… I looked around, confused, and felt a painful pressure against my wrists and ankles. I couldn't move.

The first thing I saw was the big plasma screen right in front of me. This was the only source of light in the room, and it gave everything a ghostly, blue-white light.

My breath caught in my throat. Booth's voice came from the screen because _he was right there_. The video feed was the Jeffersonian platform, busy as always. On it, a digital Booth was shouting, calling my name, pushing people out of the way…

And I was tied to a chair, bound feet and hands, in the middle of a room I'd never been in before.

"Where is she, God dammit? Temperance! Someone answer me! _Where is she_?"

*

**Nine hours earlier**

"_Anything, Bones?"_

"Yes, we have a confirmed DNA match. The hair is Anne Stoker's."

I spoke as I paced my office, feeling trapped.

"_I'm coming this way. All we found in Mrs Stoker's apartment was a partial footprint on the broken glass of the window, so the kidnapper kicked it until it shattered."_

"She didn't hear him?"

"_She had to, it was the window to her room. Bones, Mrs Stoker knew he was coming for sure. She probably went willingly."_

"You said she had her daughter's best interests…"  
_"Because she does. The man probably threatened her with hurting Anne unless she went with him. No mother would argue."_

"Fine. Do you know anything about Mr Stoker's killer? Cam finished the autopsy and claims asphyxia is the cause of death. Probably smothered by the pillow, like I'd thought. Was it the roommate?"

"_Yeah. He confessed to the murder two hours ago, Keller just gave me a copy of his report. Bones, they think someone asked him to do it. The motive just wasn't clear."_

"Who?"

"_I don't know. Keller is still working on that angle. I think they're still keeping the guy here for interrogation before moving him to a different cell block, if you know what I mean."_

"Yes, he's to be given Security Level 1 now, isn't he? He's a murderer."

"_Yes, Bones. A murderer. Trial will begin in a few months, I suppose."_

We were both silent for a moment, and then I sighed. "What do we do now, Booth? I mean, we've got nothing. No prints, no DNA, a partial on the shoe won't help if we have nothing to compare it to, for God's sake even when he commits murder this enigmatic man leaves nothing behind!"

"_Then what does that mean? Interpret the facts, Bones."_

"There are no facts!"

"_Of course there are. The fact that he leaves nothing behind means something too, doesn't it?"_

"Oh." I considered this, but try as I might I came up with nothing. "But all this means is that he wore latex gloves, disposed of the murder weapon far away from the scene or still keeps it with him, and didn't move the bodies. The murders all happened in the victim's homes… he'd stolen the keys to Lily's house, he picked the lock in Sandra's, he called Helen's house and killed her when she answered the door, and Jeanie is the only one who was murdered outside, walking her dog. All we have is the knife."

"_And no DNA on any of the women? None of them fought back hard enough?"_

"He was too strong or he surprised them. I'm sorry, Booth, but in this case we've only got your stuff. Mr Stoker's killer has answers. My stuff isn't enough."

"_Then for now, that will do. __Frank Bram is a dead end. Dan, that guy we met the day of the party… Agent Duncan, anyway, conducted the interrogation and concluded that there's no way in hell this guy can keep two women trapped in his home. Plus, he has an alibi for yesterday night and four of his friends to back him up. He agreed to come quickly, asked about you every five seconds, and even forgot Anne's name twice. Keller says he's not our guy, and for now I agree."_

"Okay. So I'll repeat my initial question, Booth. What do we do now?"

"_I was thinking about the lock of hair, actually.__ You found nothing, not a single trace of smoke or dirt or anything?"  
_"Hodgins hasn't finished his examination of the particulates. So far, he says there's shampoo for sure, he can smell it."  
There was silence on his end of the line, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing. The sick man had let her shower. I prayed it was by herself.

"_Then that lock of hair is what's going to give us more information right now. I'm almost here, tell Hodgins to hurry with his exam.__ This guy made a serious mistake sending me this, because you're going to nail him."_

"That won't make Hodgins go any faster."

"_I know, but ask him anyway."_

"See you now, Booth."

"_See you, Bones." _

I hung up and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath to remain calm. Talk to Hodgins. Get information. Find the killer. Rescue the innocent.

"_See you, Bones."  
_See Booth.

"Brennan?" Angela stood at my door, leaning against the frame.

"Hey, Angela."

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm…" How was I? "Tired. But calm, and determined, I think. I'm… confused, in many ways, but that can wait. I don't… that's not important. I'm worried and tense, but that doesn't matter. I'm frustrated because I want logical truths and it's been so long since I last felt like I was thinking logically. I want answers. Rational, solid answers."

Angela gave a small smile and walked over to me. "Care for a friendly hug?"

"Sure."

We stood hugging for a while and then I drew back. "Thanks, Ange. How are you?"

"I've got nothing to do. I feel… useless."

"What? Just because you haven't got any work doesn't mean you have no purpose! Angela, we always need you here."

"I know. That's why I'm not at home sleeping like I should be."

"Dr Brennan!" Hodgins interrupted us by running inside. "I've got the results and there are two anomalies!"

"Show me."

We walked quickly and Hodgins spoke faster than usual. "I was examining the separate hairs when I noticed that one wasn't the exact same colour and I thought, dye? And it _was_ dyed, but the rest wasn't. So why would she dye a single hair? No way, right? Turns out it's from someone else with slightly lighter hair! Probably older, right, if she has to dye it? Although not necessarily old. I mean, even _you_ dye…" Seeing the look on my face he flinched. "Moving on, we can conclude there are hairs from two different people. So I though, must be from the mother, but Cam just told me the DNA doesn't match."

"Whose is it?"

"It can't be the killer's, it's from a woman and anyway it's too long…"

I interrupted immediately. "Let's not discard that possibility yet. No conclusions without a deductive process."

"Okay, sorry. But I don't know whose it is."

"The other anomaly, Hodgins?" Angela asked beside him.  
"The particulates I found in it. Definitely washed with shampoo, like I thought, Dr Brennan. _And_ a conditioner. I can probably try and get the brands…"

I nodded. "We'll come back to that, what else?"

"Okay, so I found traces wood, pollen, and minute traces of rust near the place where the hair was cut off."

"Rust? Someone cut the hair with rusted scissors?" Angela said, looking worried.

"That's my conclusion." Hodgins answered.

We'd reached his computer up on the platform, where a graphic displaying the quantities of each element could be seen.

"Angela, take a look at the other hair, see what you can tell me. Where's Cam?" Angela nodded and said over her shoulder as she left: "In her office, I guess."

I squinted (Booth would have loved this) at the graphic and found no other unusual anomalies. Except…

"Hodgins, can you identify the spores of pollen? Because there seem to be more than one, correct?"

"Yes. In fact, there's pollen from four different plants at least, none of which are usually found in similar regions

Many plants pointed to gardening. Bram again? "I have to call Booth."

"No need." Said Hodgins, pointing behind me. I turned and saw that Booth was walking toward us.

"Booth…"

"Bones, it's two in the morning. You are not a particulate expert. If you don't drive yourself home right now I'm going to take you by force, not kidding."  
"Wait a second. Booth, I have information about the case…"

"Hodgins will tell me, thank you very much. Go home. Your job is the human skeleton. Not hair follicles. I'll deal with this right now and… you're not allowed to sleep on the couch in your office, either!"

Great. Before I even opened my mouth he knew what I'd say. I felt very annoyed.

"Booth, I am always an asset to the examination and investigation of…"

"You're not an asset if you're tired. You're less of an asset if you faint on us, or drop dead. I mean it, Bones, I'm not letting you stay. Go home."

I glared at him, feeling insulted, betrayed and angry.

"I need to work!"

"You _need_ to work?" he gave a short, cruel laugh and I recoiled, wondering who this person was and where Booth had gone in the space of an hour. "_I_ need to work. You need to rest, I think you're useless here."

Useless?

"You arrogant idiot. What makes you think I care what you think?" The words were designed to hurt, but I wasn't prepared for the way I ended up hurting myself much more. Booth simply snorted, but the emotion wasn't reaching his eyes. This was how I knew he was acting.

"I already _know_ you don't care, Bones. I get it, okay? You're made it abundantly clear. You couldn't give a shit. Fine. But I _do_ care. About our case. About what will happen if you're not on top form tomorrow. About the two women…"

"Don't pull that shit with me! Do you think I don't care about _them_? That's why I'm staying, Booth! For them! You don't get to decide what I do or how I organise my time! Leave me the hell alone, I mean it! You have no control over my actions!"

I was furious and hurt.

"I'm not leaving you alone." His voice was quieter but sharp and decisive. Final. "Get used to me being here, Bones, I'm the kind of guy who sticks around. And I am still the Agent in charge of this investigation and it's irrational of you to stay with nothing to do. Tomorrow I need you on top form, dammit! Go!"

I gaped. How dare he say 'irrational' to me?

He was partly right, my rational side said. If I stayed now I might hinder the investigation later. But conceding defeat felt so much like losing right now. I glanced around and realised an audience was watching our fight in rapt attention. There was Cam, leaning against the wall in silent disapproval and looking tired, with bags under her eyes… There was Angela, standing in the door to her office, whose kind eyes now had widened with concern… Hodgins, only two steps behind me, staring at the floor in frustration. Even a couple of late workers and the security guard at the entrance to the lab were craning their necks to see.

Time was being lost, and it was my fault.

Without another word I ripped off my lab coat and stalked away.

*

**Eight hours later**…

"_Where is she?"_ rough, raw voice. _The voice I love_. Familiar, but so angry…

"Booth, calm down!" Softer. _She is in control now_.

"Oh my God…" Choked, crying voice_. Don't cry, my friend._

"Ms Montenegro, get a grip on yourself! Crying isn't going to help…!" _the soft voice is also scared, but she fights to hide it._

"Shut up, Cam, she's gone!" _Don't be so angry, love. Don't be so sad._

"Booth, I mean it, sit down!"

"Angela, we'll find her…" _He tries to help her, to help them all, but he can't. No one can. Not even the people running from one place to another, busy, bursting with activity, my true home where I work is brimming with movement as always, I miss my home, my work... I miss being busy. Not much to do, tied to this chair..._

"You can't know that, Hodgins."

"Who was the last person to see her?" a new voice. _A voice I don't know._

"We were." _Love, sit down. Breathe, love_. "She went home. Since then, nothing."

Nothing…

The tears ran down my face and I couldn't do anything but stare at them, wishing with every fibre of my being that I could talk to them, help them, anything…

But it was too late.

Too late, Temperance.

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_**That's right. Now tell me your deepest, darkest secrets. Or just your thoughts on this chap, whichever you prefer.**_


	25. Chapter 25

_**I'm sorry! I**__**'m such a cliff-hanger nut… but I'll try not to do it…**_

_**Much.**_

_**Okay guys, here's the thing. Tchitchou (your reviews are amazing, thank you!) posted a comment which made me go back to Ch. 18 (you know, the M rated one). And I realised I posted an older version! So I've updated that (if anyone wants to go back and reread, be my guest ;)**_

_**I've tried to answer everyone**__** who reviewed, but the anons I couldn't! I'd just like to mention andrea100 (I'm honoured! Thanks! Oh, and I'm also a total X-phile) and smee, bonesfan11, Chloe, and blc (who's not really anonymous, but she said she'd hold her breath. Hope you made it! ;) and just… oh, everyone, you guys are awesome!**_

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**CHAPTER 25**

Time passes strangely when you have nothing to do. No partner, no friends, no work. Alone. Every second is agonising if all that's left is blackness looking at you out of more darkness. Afraid.

But in this small room darkness was kept at bay, because I did have something to do. With mounting horror I _watched_.

The television screen in front of me told me several things, which I began to process only after Booth had left the frame to 'God dammit Seeley wash your face and calm down' as Cam had put it.

Someone had planted a camera, probably on the walking rail high above from what the angle seemed (it appeared zoomed in but at least 50 or even 60 degrees to the floor level). Someone who either worked at the Jeffersonian or had managed to break inside. My mind churned the information, furiously thinking. It seemed our suspect had taken me, and I was now being held captive until he could think of what to do with me. Because I would already be dead if that was his intention.

What had happened? How had he managed to take me? My thoughts felt scrambled…

And then it all came back.

*

**Eight**** hours ago…**

I got home and immediately went to the kitchen and took out the water. My throat was dry with thirst and now that I thought about it I was hungry too. I poured and drank three glasses, ate two energy bars, and sat on the couch. I sat through a half hour documentary without seeing it very much, all the time feeling the exhaustion sink in.

Maybe Booth was right and I should sleep, I felt light-headed and dizzy. Oops, dizzy was inaccurate. I should say "my vision was being impaired by the apartment spinning around me"… wait, that couldn't be right either…

I stood up and walked to the fridge, hoping for another glass of water before dropping to bed. If only Booth were here. He'd tuck me in… sweet Booth with his kind eyes…

Twice my legs buckled under me and I had to slam my fist onto a surface to stand upright. Silly Temperance. So clumsy.

I giggled. Clumsy wasn't accurate either. Too informal.

I drank another glass before I realised that the taste of the water was very, very wrong… a twinge of sweetness that shouldn't be there, and a few bubbles.

Water didn't usually have bubbles, did it? Something was very wrong…

But I didn't make it to the phone, even as I quickly ran to it and fell over, onto the floor with a painful thud. My legs had simply given in, and I found myself trying to shout but only managing "Booth… what's happening to me…?" in a high childish voice, with no one to hear even as darkness covered my eyes and my very bones felt liquefied.

I slept dreamlessly, for the first time in a very long time I sank deep into the world of rest and peace. I was floating, and I forgot why I was supposed to be afraid or alert or even _if_ I should be worried at all.

The warm brown floor swirled around me, the exact same colour as Booth's eyes, so deep and trustful and kind, kind Booth with his strong arms that held me up when it felt like I would fall down… Booth whose eyes were also capable of becoming black and dangerous. But I helped him too. Booth needed time, not space. I could be beside him… So I swam in Booth's eyes as I slept…

Suddenly a shrill sound dragged me out of this state, and I groggily opened my eyes.

The phone was ringing.

I thought I heard sounds in my bedroom, shuffling feet, perhaps? Everything was a confusing blur, and I had no time to wonder who had slipped the pills into my water or why. I dragged myself forward, fighting the pain in my muscles, my scrambled thoughts and the threatening weariness, already clouding my vision again. I focused the remains of my energy in getting to the phone. With my last ounce of strength I stretched my leaden arm and yanked the phone off the small table next to the couch.

With a clatter the receiver fell to the floor, and I heavily put my head next to it and tried to speak.

"Help…" my voice was a low rasp. "I need help, someone's drugged me…"

"_Bones!"_

"Booth! Help me, I've been drugged, someone's inside my apartment…"

I was beginning to fade out again, but now I heard the quick, loud steps of someone walking my way. He'd been in my bedroom. Creepy crawling stranger. Disgusting, I was angry, he'd better not touch me or I'd rip his head off… or I'd kill him, like I'd done other times…

"_Bones, I'm on my way, hold on, okay? Bones, please…"_

Focus, Temperance. The baddie would get to you soon. Any last words to Booth?

"It's too late…" Stupid tears wouldn't let me see. Stupid, useless tears for the love I'd never know.

"_No! No it's not, I'll find you, okay? I promise, I'll find you and I'll save you, Bones…__!"_

"I love you…" but although I felt my lips move, no air left my lungs to bring the words to life. And maybe Booth would be sadder if he knew, who knew, right? Oops, said _knew_ twice… should learn to phrase sentences correctly…

"_No! Bones, don't give up!"  
_But I had no more strength. All gone. Booth, I love you.

"_No! NO! Bones, that one hair he sent was _yours_...!" _

I looked up and saw a tall dark shape run to me and kick the phone out of my hand. I couldn't help but cry out in pain as I felt him break at least two phalanges with the powerful boots he was wearing.

With the rush of adrenalin the sting brought I managed to shout. "Booth! I love you!" suddenly I needed him to know. Would I ever see him again? "I love you! Booth!"

I couldn't see the baddie's face. Look up Temperance, save yourself, identify the murderer, it's too late for Booth's help now…

"Booth!"

Too used to having a partner, someone to lean on, aren't you? You're alone now, Temperance… and you can't even lift your eyes but you scream your love for this man…?

"I love you, Booth!"

The man slammed his foot onto the frail instrument and it broke. With it, I broke too, and let the darkness take me.

*

**Seven**** hours later**…

So the suspect was already inside the house when I entered it. I blocked out the last minutes of my capture, the desperation in not being able to move, my untimely declaration… he wouldn't have heard. Think rationally, Temperance.

Not only that, but the suspect had been to my apartment before to take one of my hairs… from the brush, maybe? … And he'd put it together with the lock of Anne's hair. A clue? Or a warning?

I shivered, as my muscles tried to regain body warmth due to the low temperature of the room. And no other reason. I looked around the room again, trying to remain calm and gather as much information as possible. A small space, white or light grey walls, it seemed. One window, but a thin wood plank had been nailed over it, so no light and no telling what time of the day it was, unless…  
Wait. I looked back at the screen and realised the Jeffersonian was ablaze with sunlight streaming through the high windows, besides the fluorescent working lights. So assuming this was a live feed, it was probably morning, or perhaps midday.

None of my friends were on the platform. Booth still hadn't come back from wherever he'd gone to cool down. Just busy people, as usual, but something felt wrong. Everyone looked so serious, so lost… was that because of me? Was I important to them? Obviously my high position in the hierarchy of the lab would have an effect in the case of my disappearance… but there was an emotional connection too. First year students coming to beg for help, interns asking to study under me, other scientists comparing opinions, my friends and co-workers positing hypothesis…

Yes, something was missing.

*

I fell asleep, but not before noticing that my body was still processing the effects from the drugs, so not much time could have passed since my kidnap. I had also realised I'd need food, water and access to a toilet soon. The man who'd taken me would have to provide these things, especially water, soon.

But try as I might to stay alert, I couldn't fight the relief sleep brought.

So I was jerked awake when the door opened, and I didn't have time to see who was the person pushing a young girl into the room.

Her hands were tied behind her back, as were her feet so she fell face forward with a yelp of pain. The man who'd pushed her slammed the door behind her and left us alone in silence. I twisted around to look at her, and she quickly scrambled upward and turned to look at me too.

The resemblance really was quite striking.

She was much more beautiful than I had ever been at her age, but the clear eyes, the dark hair, and pale skin were reminiscent of mine. The underlying architecture told the real story, of course: she had higher cheekbones and her mandible was more narrow than mine.

She brought a whiff of cleanness with her over to me. Recently showered, from the strong smell of the soap and shampoo. She was leaning against the wall and her eyes were wide with fear still holding mine, but she didn't fear _me_. She was too strong and smart to be afraid of me, or even of the man who'd thrown her like a dirty rag onto the floor.

But she feared for someone else. Her mother, Margaret Stoker.

"Anne?"

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_**Don't kill me?**__** ;)**_

_**Feedback is love. I need love. Everyone needs love, right?**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Work. That is my excuse.**_

_**Sorry guys, **__**I have a two week intensive and then I'll be back to normal.**_

_**PS. Thank you edwards-lamb! That's the highest praise and author can get!**_

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**CHAPTER 26**

"_Anne?"_

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"How do you know my name?" her voice was clear and raw, like a the sound of glass breaking.

"My name is Temperance Brennan. My partner and I were working on your case."

"I have a case?"

"Yes. Your dissapearance, the murders of four women…"

She flinched, withdrawing slightly back into the wall, thin long limbs contracting to form a safe ball. I knew that gesture too well.

"How did he get to you, then?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure. He drugged me. The water… but really, he caught me off guard. Any normal day I probably would have gotten… I don't know. Maybe I wouldn't be here." Booth had been so right. I had to be responsible and take proper care of myself, if only to be alert. It was dangerous to keep up the rhythm I tried to maintain. Unhealthy.

But thinking of Booth right now inly brought a sharp pain everywhere in my body but especially in my clenched stomach, like a fist sqeezing tighter and tighter…

Anne was speaking. "…that's what happened to me too. The water… and he was already inside when I… he was waiting."

For the first time she looked slightly shaken, and I saw through the solid armour of courage she wore around her. Her young mind had created an image of bravery and selflessness which she lived off of. It was incredible, and showed just how tough this girl was. The protection wasn't to keep people coming in, however. It was to prevent emotions from spilling out.

I was surprised at myself for the very Booth-like observation.

"Who is it, Anne? Who's doing this?"

She didn't hesitate.

"I can't tell you. He told me not to, else he'd hurt my mother."

"How will he…"

"Cameras. Everywhere." She nodded at the screen, still showing the Jeffersonian and everyone moving around. But none of my friends. They'd all left. "He loves playing with cameras. Is that somwhere important to you? Is that where your family is?"

"Yes."

"He did that to me too. He had a camera in my mom's place, even the new one. And one in my dad's cell. I have no idea how he did that."

"The cellmate was an ally of this killer…" I began to explain.

"Don't call him that." She said, panicked.

"Why not?"

"He hates that word. There are cameras in here too, remember? He can hear everything we're saying. Please don't call him that. He'll hurt my mom…"

"Okay, okay calm down." I tried to be soothing and responsible. Even though my neck was beginning to feel sore because I was twisted around, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I'd been looking for her so desperately… and now she was here.  
And I might die.

"Your father…"

"… is dead. I know." She didn't sound very sorry. "He was an asshole. So who gives a shit, right?"

I lowered my gaze for a moment, because this girl had suffered too much. She'd seen and experienced things no one should have to feel, and she had felt them all at her age. The unfairness of this world made me shiver with rage.

"Anne, we'll get out of this, all right? My team are incredibly good. They can probably find us, soon. Trust me, we'll be okay."

"I'm sorry, what's your name again? Temperance?"

"Just call me Tempe."

Again I surprised myself. I'd never asked anyone to call me Tempe. Sometimes the men I dated did, as a form of endearment. Even Jared had started calling me that without my permission, but I'd never told him or anyone else to actually do so. Mostly Brennan. Or Temperance, because it didn't feel so special if it came from someone else's lips but Booth's.

"Tempe…" she gave her first small smile, but it was rapidly gone. "I don't think we're going to get out of here. These past days I've been trying to live to help my mom, but now everything's changed again. _You're_ here, and I don't know what he wants." She looked up, defiant, and spoke to the ceiling. I did too, but saw no obvious camera lens. "Do you hear me? I still can't figure out what you want from me!"

There was no answer, but the silence had tensed so thickly I could almost feel another presence witness to our conversation. Could almost hear the shallow breaths of poisoned lugs taking air meant for human beings, and not monsters.

"Anne…" I whispered. "Anne, please relax. We'll be fine. I'm going to help you. I'm here to help you, okay? Now tell me… does he… I mean when does he feed you?"  
"He used to let me eat alone in the toilet. Locked me in, see? But I haven't eaten all day, not since you're here."

"Okay. What about water? Does he buy it or make you drink the tap water?"

"Tap. Always."

I took it in. Tap meant less trips out.

"Has he ever left you alone inside the house?"

"Of course. He got you didn't he?"

"He may have someone helping him."  
"No. He's alone. There's never been an accomplice or stuff like that."

Alone. That meant something.

"Besides yesterday night, has he ever left?"

"Loads of times. Sometimes I think he's gone the entire day. But there's no way to escape. If he leaves, I'm locked inside the cellar with a bottle of water, and I can scream my lungs out but he doesn't care. I never know where he keeps my mom. I never see her."

"You said cellar? We're in a house, then."

She flinched again. I had the feeling she was answering my questions as a way of defying this man, but she was too afraid to tell me who he was yet, or give too much away.

"Anne…" I bega softly, but a scream from the screen cut me off. I recognised that voice: it was Angela.

I frantically turned around to look at the lab, begging for my friend to appear within the camera's range, so that I could figure out what ailed her. But nothing seemed to change until I began to hear loud voices and more shouts, growing in intensity. A commotion seemed to have begun, and finally people stopped working and turned to search for the source of the disturbance.

"Angela!" Cam's voice rang out in the silent lab, and a moment later she was in my sight, for a second before running from her office to Angela's.

"No! Let go of me! Somebody call Booth! Where is he?"

"Here!" My heart seemed to jump in my chest as his voice was heard as well. But I still couldn't see anyone, could only hear.

"What's happened?" Booth… "Where is she? Have you found something?"

And suddenly I could see them both, running side by side toward the platform with Cam trailing behind them.

"I just found something… stand here!" Angela put her arms on Booth's shoulders and planted him right in the middle of the platform, and also right in the middle of my screen. I could only watch, breathing heavily.

Then she ran off again, giving my partner no other explanation.

"Angela! Is it about Bones?" he yelled, a catch in his voice.  
"Of course it's about her!" I heard faintly. "Everything is, now!"

Cam stood next to Booth, and a deep pain seemed to claw at my insides as I wished that I could be the one with her hand on his back, rubbing gently to ease the expression of pain on his face.

And suddenly the clang of shoes against metal steps was very loud. Closer.

But it couldn't be… could it?

"I found something!"  
The voice was too loud, even distorted. It was unmistakeably Angela's.

And then the frame _moved_.

She'd found the camera lens.

A gasp right next to me made me jump. Anne had slowly dragged herself to sit beside me and was watching the events open mouthed.

"Are those your friends?" she whispered, almost as if in awe.

"Yes." I said, feeling the tears trickle down my face but not caring one bit.

The colours on the screen blurred for a moment, and then Angela's dear face was magnified so her eyes filled everything.

"This isn't a security camera! Guys, this was planted here to spy on us! We're going to find Brennan and get the son of a bitch that did this to her."

The sound of his steps became loud and fast, and I shivered in anticipation of seeing his eyes again. Any second now I could see his face. I'd missed it so much.

"We're going to get you!" The fury shining in my best friend's eyes made me smile with fierce pride, even as I kept crying silently. Something inside of me was waking up once more. Something deeper than the determination find a way to save myself and stay alive no matter the cost.

Something that made me _feel_ more alive than ever.

"Do you hear me? We'll find you!"

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_**Thanks so much for bearing with me! Yes, it was short, but I'm reeeeaally busy! Please accept my apology by reviewing?**_

_**Wait, that came out wrong. I promise it sounded more subtle in my head.**_

_**Oh well.**_

_**;)**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**Writing fanfic, working**__**… potato, potato.**_

_**Enjoy! We hear it's been a while… (first person to guess the quote gets a "Well duH! That scene is awesome!" from me! **_

_**What? What do you MEAN that's not enough of an incentive?)**_

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**CHAPTER 27**

They disconnected the camera.

I was numb with shock at seeing Angela so close and so furious, missing her comfort and wisdom. But the unfulfilled expectation that maybe Booth's face would be so close too now… wasn't.

It was all gone. Black.

Off.

And the silence was as painful as every millimetre separating me from Booth, and as every insecurity fighting to take over my rationality, and as every whisper of fear threatening to become a scream…

"Tempe?" Anne's quiet, weary voice sounded far away, as though miles and miles separated us. She was leaning against my chair, her cheek almost touching the side of my leg, and I smiled down at her and became myself again. I was strong and she needed comfort. I was in control now. She could rely on me.

"Yes, Anne?"

"They… can they find us? I mean, do you think he'll move us away from here?"  
"I don't know. He sees everything we see, correct? Hears everything we hear?"

"Yes. Always. He already knows your friends found the camera."

I rubbed my raw wrists, feeling the plastic used to tie them peel off hairs and sting the skin there.  
"If he has any sense he won't move us." What I said next was only partly true. Because if Angela could somehow trace the feed then we'd be found, and moving was the only solution. Yet… "Moving three strong women from one secure place to another without being seen is ridiculous. The moment I was alone I'd break out and help you escape. He'd be an idiot to try it."  
"Stop insulting him." Anne said hurriedly. But I had a feeling. It's quite imprecise not to state what that feeling was, because to have simply _a_ feeling and not describe said one may not make sense, but bear with me…

"And not just an idiot. He'd be a killer in my partner's cuffs with a bruise on the side of his head."

Anne clung to the chair I sat on with white knuckles, looking desperate. "Tempe…"

"Don't worry Anne, this man has the Intelligence Quotient of an average worm, and interestingly enough cephalopods have no brains…"

The door slammed open, like I'd been waiting it to.

And Frank Bram stood on the other side of it.

"You _bitch_."

I couldn't answer.

Bram. All along, the most obvious, the most ludicrously blatant suspect… How could we have missed it? _Had_ we missed it? Or was Booth's fear that I fit the victim profile not the overreaction I'd thought, but a manifestation of the suspicion that _this_ was our killer after all, that I was in real danger from this man…

He strode over to Anne, who tried to cling to me, but with his strong arms he lifted her into the air as though she was weightless, brutally twisting her fingers until she let go of my jeans.

"Put her down!" I shouted, struggling against the bonds despite knowing it was useless. I felt a blazing fury inside toward this hideous, sick man.

"I don't want her to see what we're going to talk about." Bram said, matter of factly.

What talking could there possibly be if she was in danger of _seeing_? I sat back and realised it would be better for Anne to leave. I steeled myself to get ready for the worst.

"What are you going to do?" Anne asked him, looking at me.

Bram didn't answer, he just slung her over a shoulder and left the room.

During those ten seconds I tried to apply as much force as I could to the tape, the chair, my arms, to twist my wrists, further hurting my fractured phalanges…

"Stop that."

He was back, and he closed the door behind him.

I stopped, feeling the adrenalin charging my brain and rampaging through my body. Telling me to run, or fight, escape, _survival_, self preservation, _me_, save myself, safety…

"I warned you, Tempe. I sent you that hair and thought that maybe you'd figure it out. Maybe you'd be smart enough and hide away, or something. But you weren't. You didn't find out in time."

I took a deep breath.

"Your boyfriend must be worried. I heard your screams, when you were fainting but you said you loved him. You must really love him, then."

Bram made a point of looking at the screen, but Booth wasn't there, nor was Angela, Cam or Hodgins.

"He's not my boyfriend." I spat.

"Honey, it's a bit late for lies, don't you think?"

"No. He's not, he doesn't love me, we tricked you to get information and you fell for it, you dumb asshole…"

He slapped my face, and my head banged against the back of the chair with whiplash. My cheek burned. Hate.

"Don't lie to me. He doesn't love you…? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." He dismissed my reason for living with a shake of his head, and smiled.

"You're very beautiful when you're angry. Almost as much as Margaret is, you know."

I didn't answer. For the first time, at the mention of Margaret's name, a glint of madness touched his cold blue eyes.

"You look like Anne too, though. If Margaret and I had a daughter, she'd look like you, and Anne. Exactly like Anne."

I still didn't speak. My cheek still stung from his rough hands, and I breathed heavily from the shaking rage. I wanted to scream that he was deranged. I wanted to laugh at his childish fantasies, at his delusion.

"But you must miss him. You miss your love, the other Agent, right?"

I glared.

"Right?" he asked again.

When I still didn't answer, he kicked my bound feet, but the pain was worth his anger.

"Don't worry, you'll see him soon." A painfully sharp shard of hope lodged in my heart. Did that mean…? "Your friends are very smart. Smarter than I thought, even. I didn't know she'd find the camera. Pretty Angela with her pictures… I didn't expect that. She's smart, right? Smart computer babe."

My heart pounded, loud and strong, in my chest. Hope was pumped to the rest of my body, making me drunk with it. I shouldn't be. But I was. I hoped.

"I really didn't expect that. I think they'll be able to find you. I think she's smart enough. And he's so angry… did you hear him before? '_Where is she_?'" Bram laughed, imitating Booth's shouts. "Very impressive. He loves you a lot, I'll bet." He paused, as if steeling himself to do something. "Yeah, they'll find you. He's so determined and she's so smart, together they'll find you soon enough."

"Why don't you let Anne go?" I said. "I know you want Margaret, but Anne is innocent. At least let her go."

He laughed, like I'd just said something incredibly funny.

"Margaret is innocent too! She doesn't want to go, see? You don't understand, Tempe! They _want_ to be here. Anne wants to stay with her mom. It's normal. I understand."

"You're insane." The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them. "You're crazy, and you've deluded yourself into believing Mrs Stoker loves you and her daughter wants you."

But this was a mistake. He pushed me until my chair fell backwards with a mighty crash, and I felt the wind rush out of my lungs in a gasp. My vision went black for a moment but I blinked rapidly, to try and avoid his blows. But I couldn't move. He kicked my ribs, stepped on my already broken fingers and then slapped me again, from the ground. I didn't cry out, not once.

"Your beauty is fragile, Tempe. Like flowers. Like Lily was, and Helen. Blue means flowers, Tempe. Margaret is stronger, because her eyes are dark. Brown means wood. Your eyes, just like Lily and Helen and Anne, they're blue. Not brown."

"What about Sandra? Were her eyes brown?"

"Yes. Dark, dark eyes, Tempe. If only you could see them… almost black. She was very strong. It took very long for her to die. Longer than Lily, who had blue eyes. Do you understand now?"

"Why didn't you stab Jeanie? What colour were _her_ eyes?"

At the mention of this name, he stiffened. I was still lying on my back on the floor, and he towered over me, but now he stood up and paced, and I couldn't see him. Only hear his steps.

"I wish I could kill you, Tempe."

A cold chill made me shiver. What had happened the night Jeanie died?

"But your boyfriend, he'd find me, right? I think he'd be so fucking pissed he'd kill me himself. I don't want him to kill me. Who would take care of Margaret, then? Who would watch Anne? She's in that teen rebel stage… poor Margaret, has her pretty hands full."

"What happened with Jeanie, Frank?"

"Shut the fuck up!" he suddenly shouted. I froze. "Stop asking me questions! Just shut up, okay?"

"Did she fight back?" I said loudly. "What happened when Anne saw her, Frank?"

"I'm going to leave you here, Tempe." He walked back to me and stood over me, so that when he spoke bits of spittle flew from his mouth and landed all around me. He was shaking with fury. "I'm going to leave you here alone without anything, no water or food or _anything_, you bitch. And I hope you die. Are your eyes blue enough? I really hope you die."

_Are your eyes blue enough?_

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_**How'**__**s that for creepy!**_

_**Have a nice week-end! ;)**_


	28. Chapter 28

_**Here goes.**_

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**CHAPTER 28**

_Are your eyes blue enough?_

He left the room with this sentence ringing in the silence. Anne was gone, and with her my answers vanished once more. I hadn't even caught a glimpse of Margaret, and besides a killer's word, had no real evidence she was even in the same building I was. Bram was going to move them both, instead of risking trying to move me.

I was left here to die. Lying on my back, feeling a terrible stabbing pain in my joints and on my crushed hands. I should try and shift sideways, but at the moment I didn't have the strength.

Death was something I'd contemplated many times. I worked with human remains, after all. But on the times I'd feared dying myself, I always found this reservoir of strength and will to survive. Like a surge of _life_ in itself, flooding me with determination.

As I fought to remain awake and aware, with pain in every inch of my body, from fractured phalanges to bound wrists behind my back and bruises decorating my back and legs… as I sat, breathing and trying to interpret every sound that reached my ears, I felt it again. I _had_ to live. I wouldn't abandon hope or let myself despair.

The screen remained blank.

For an indefinite stretch of time I simply lay there, thinking about living.

But then I moved my cramped limbs and my hands sent a sharp stab up my arm. They felt fractured, but I wasn't in a position to set them properly. The weight of my body together with the sharp angles of the back of the wooden chair were adding painful pressure which almost made me cry out. But I didn't want to chance Bram hearing me suffer.

And suddenly I heard a door slamming. It was unmistakeable. Bram had managed to take Anne and Margaret.

I was alone.

Staring at the ceiling, feeling blood flow lessen in my lower extremities and arteries pump slower… and slower… the pressure increasing in my cranium…

Booth would find me.

I knew it. It wasn't _faith_. I had facts to support this belief. Angela could probably triangulate the signal to locate the place where it was coming from. I wasn't as adept on technological aspects of computer science as she was, but there had to be some kind of transmission between this house and the camera they'd found, assuming the images being displayed were of a live feed and I hadn't been lied to.

Booth would find me.

I knew it.

It wasn't …faith.

I… had…

Facts.

*

I woke alone, with a start that brought the horrible crushing of my hands into sharp relief. I gave a small yelp, then regained my bearings. How much time had passed? I had no possible way of knowing.

"Booth?"

Wait, why would I call him when I knew he couldn't hear?

That wasn't rational.

I needed water, or dehydration was inevitable. It had been… probably more than fifteen to sixteen hours. I still had another two days in me, before death was a risk. I had to move, or my muscles would only relax more and fail to contract properly, resulting in lessening motor function capability directly proportional to the time passed.

Cursing myself for not attempting this before, I shifted my shoulders to tip the chair.

It didn't even budge.

With a groan of frustration, I put all my strength into twisting my back, kicking my bound legs desperately, and trying to lift myself with my right (uninjured) hand. With a heave I managed to shift the wooden furnace until it almost fell sideways. Quickly taking advantage of the momentum, cursing the drugs still in my system and the weakness the lack of food had brought, I kicked again, pulled and threw my weight again, and finally fell to the side.

The pain was excruciating in my hands for a moment, but I knew this was due to the blood rushing back and the feeling returning to my digits.

I moaned, feeling my right arm now begin to numb from the position I was in. Booth would find me.

Angela… Not faith… facts. I was facing the door now, and a slight sliver of light was taunting me from the other side. Freedom was just outside. I could save myself. No need to rely on anyone else. What if they couldn't find me?

Myself. I could do this.

I tried to move again, but Bram had tied my ankles together and to the left leg of the chair, and my wrists behind my back, which, unless I could break the tape, would most likely result in a zero movement capability.

Dragging myself wasn't an option either, because of course the bound legs again.

Relax, Tempe. Think in a structured and orderly manner. Don't panic.

Booth is coming.

Right?

I forgot the facts. What now?

*

My head was buzzing.

So it took a while to hear the steps outside. They were very quiet. I could barely see, so I closed my eyes and strained to hear. Was that someone right on the other side of the window?

"Booth!" I shouted. "Here! I'm here!"

No one answered. I felt angry at myself, imagining rescue scenarios like a mentally unstable person. It was a possibility, that didn't mean I had to shout every time I thought I heard leaves rustling. Only it did sound a lot like someone stepping… I couldn't help imagining _now_… someone was outside.

Someone who could hear me.

"Hello?" I called, quieter now, humbled. Please someone come. Please, Booth. Angela. Come.

I tried once more, feeling my throat rasp as I shouted: "I'm alone! In here! He's gone!"

And as I spoke the last word an almighty tearing roar resounded in my ears. The window, the boarded up black window was torn away as though wood was nothing but paper…

I gasped.

He crashed into the room like an unstoppable force of nature, bringing with him the light and the sound, bringing life and hope and an explosion of happiness that shattered my insides. He ran to me, and I think he was shouting but I couldn't hear anything. Nothing but the sound he made when he breathed, and suddenly the room was full of people, people coming in through the door, two more men through the window, shouting too, I think, but I couldn't hear.

"Bones! I think she's got a concussion… Bones! Someone get rid of those! I need to carry her…. Hospital! Now!" And then. "Do you think I care about that right now?"

I was free. "Booth." I rasped, eyes half shut, clinging to him like a child.

"Shh. It's okay, love. It's all right, I'm getting you out of here. Close your eyes now. She needs water!" he called, and a second later I felt the moisture trickle onto my lips, and I greedily parted them and drank, feeling a little more human.

"Broken phalanges…" he murmured, checking my hands carefully. "Hospital, Bones. Right now."

"Don't go." I said, holding onto his jacket. "Please, stay with me." The throbbing in my head would be unbearable without him.

And my Booth smiled, leant down to place a delicate, chaste kiss on my cheek and said:

"Didn't you understand? I'll always be with you, Bones."

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_**Give me an A!**_

_**A!**_

_**Give me… another one!**_

_**A!**_

_**Give… yeah, one more please?**_

_**A!**_

_**Now gimme a W!**_

_**W!  
Put them together and: AAAW!!!**_

_**Yes that's right. My little joke had nothing to do with reviews! I feel so proud of myself I could cry. *wipes tear out of the side of her eye***_

_**;)**_


	29. Chapter 29

_**Umm… can I please just say that the promo for "Science in the Physicist" will soon become the most viewed vid in YouTube thanks to me?**_

_**Really? Okay, here goes:**_

**The promo for "Science in the Physicist" will soon become the most viewed vid in YouTube thanks to me.**

_**I mean, seriously… how HOT was that slam!!!**_

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**CHAPTER 29**

"Bones! I think she's got a concussion… Bones! Someone get rid of those! I need to carry her…"

I was lifted into the air, and the first thing I did was put my hand on his chest. Right over his heart, just to make sure it was still there, real. Like an old friend, its beat reminded me of life.

"Hospital! Now!" He was shouting at someone who was holding a phone.

"There's no one else in the house, Agent Booth." Another Agent said.

"I know." He turned again. "Have you called the ambulance, Spender?"

"Yeah, they're five minutes away."

"But why is the house empty?" the man insisted.

"Do you think I care about that right now?" Booth snapped.

"Booth." I rasped, eyes half shut, clinging to him like a child.

"Shh. It's okay, love. It's all right, I'm getting you out of here. Close your eyes now. She needs water!" he called, and a second later I felt the moisture trickle onto my lips, and I greedily parted them and drank, feeling a little more human. The merry lights refracting in the transparent bottle shone, dancing. They reminded me of the drugs. Wait, no! Water was bad!

I spit it out, coughing, feeling my throat burn.

"Drink, Bones." Booth put me down and grabbed the bottle himself. Then he wet his fingers and caressed my lips with the moist liquid, parting them. I felt the thirst again, regaining my bearings slowly. I wasn't in danger anymore. I needed water.

He nodded, smiling. "Good, now drink." And this time I drank, gulping in. But not too much, because he knew it could shock my system.

People moved all around us. Shadows passed us, several faces staring down at me with concern. Booth was running his hands all over me, but in a gentle, feather-light touch, and not how I needed him to touch me: strongly, so I remembered what feeling alive felt like. I needed him to add real bruises to my skin so that the pain made me remember that he was there…

"Broken phalanges…" he murmured, checking my hands carefully. "And multiple haematomas. First to second degree. Concussion too, I think. Hospital, Bones. Right now."

He started to get up, and in panic I realised he wasn't taking me with him. Alone. He was going to leave me alone, just like I'd left him before. Payback for what I'd done, for being irresponsible and stupid for letting my guard down, for becoming tired and worried and vulnerable.

"Don't go." I said, holding onto his jacket. The pain in his eyes lasted an instant, because his face was nothing but soft as he slowly sat back, right by my side, but not as close as I needed him. "Please, stay with me." I pulled him closer with my weak arms and he responded, completely mine. The throbbing in my head would be unbearable without him.

Everything would be unbearable without him.

And _my_ Booth smiled, leant down to place a delicate, chaste kiss on my cheek and said:

"Didn't you understand? I'll always be with you, Bones."

*

It was a good thing that when I woke, he wasn't there.

Angela sat by my side, and she hugged me and smiled and explained (after I demanded to be told) exactly how I was found. It involves complicated computer programming and the average person might not understand it, therefore I'm not going to tell you.

We talked for a long while, and I told her everything I'd seen. That it was Bram, that Anne was alive and Margaret probably was too. Everything that had happened to me. And my friend listened, because Angela was like that: very good at listening.

So when I told her how I felt now as objectively as I could: empty, cold, afraid, and like someone was painfully sucking the life out of my weak limbs… She simply answered:

"Bren, he's outside. He's been outside the entire time, okay?"

I nodded. A part of me had sensed Booth was near all the time.

"I love you, sweetie. I'm so happy we found you."

And then, with a light creak, the door opened.

I saw Angela turn and the light shine off her hair as it swirled around her head in ringlets. It then settled around her shoulders, softly.

The curtains flitted slightly as the air around them was stirred by the motion from outside. A non-existent breeze played with the starch white fabric, and I saw that too.

But mostly, I saw him. And after him, nothing else.

"Goodbye." Angela said and quickly left. She didn't smile or raised her eyebrows or even look at me, I think. Probably because my face wasn't something anyone but Booth could look at right now and then live on.

He stayed near the door.

"Never leave me again, Temperance."

The emptiness was threatening to overflow, to consume me and drown me and leave me with nothing. I gasped for air, curling my fingers around the starch white sheets of the bed in anticipation. The anticipation of feeling alive again, and banishing this choking nothingness. Like a darkness in the pit of my stomach, letting feeling escape from my body in an asphyxia of rationality…

"Promise me. Swear it." He still stood there, away from me. Was this my punishment for being so bad? Why wasn't he touching me? Every fibre of my being burned with the need of him. My hands unclenched and I sat up, trying to see the problem. To figure it out by myself for once. Something was very wrong.

"Promise you'll _never_. _Leave_. _Me_."

"Never." I was hollow, and the word rang as empty as me. What did 'never' mean, after all?

"Promise properly, Bones. Never is not a promise."

"I do, Booth. I promise." But what did 'promise' mean?

He clenched his fists, but although he seemed angry or maybe afraid, I could never tell, he didn't shout. He only nodded once to himself, apparently confirming something I'd missed once again, and turned to leave.

"_No_." I said, feeling the meaning now. 'No' meant I wanted him to stay. "Booth, please no."

'Please' meant he had to stay, or _I _would escape through that hole in me and then all that would be left would be my body.

"Sleep, Bones. Eat, drink and sleep. Don't work. Take care of yourself for once and I'll see you-"

"I won't. I won't drink."

I slipped off the bed and stood, slightly unsteady but defiant. He knew and I knew that I _would_ drink, and eat and sleep the minimum, because obviously a human body can't survive without constant water supply or nutrition to maintain one's tissue, not to mention the neurological problems caused by lack of sleep. But since I'd woken up logic had escaped me. The darkness inside had let that slip away too.

"I won't sleep, either."

"Bones, what are you-"

"I'll work so hard I'll-"

"Enough." He said, louder than I'd expected.

For a moment there was just silence and my panic that I didn't understand what was happening right before my eyes.

"I'm sorry." To my horror, tears stung my eyes and my voice was high pitched, like a child's once more, like frightened little girl. "I'm so sorry, Booth."

He didn't hug me. He didn't smile and give me a chaste kiss and say he'd always be with me. That vision of safety was gone, the comfort had faded now that I was physically all right.

He just stood there, looking at me with a hardness in his eyes I'd seen before but never feared.

I feared it now.

"Booth, please…" I was crying, shaking with the terror that it had finally happened.

Not a dark night during a stakeout… that's not how it ended.

This. This was the end.

It wasn't a passionate minute inside a car that would break us. It was just fear, fear of loss, fear of pain, fear of love, Booth I love you.

"Speak…" I choked, closing my eyes and feeling more tears run down. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"Don't cry, Bones." He didn't move. He looked sad (not that I was able to use my complete visual capabilities), certainly, but he didn't comfort me like he always did.

"That's not what you're thinking." I said. I still stood there, next to my bed, half naked, afraid, and he just... "Booth, come on!" I burst finally.

He took a step toward me. My breath caught.

"Right now, I'm thinking… well, wondering, really, about you. The thing is, Bones, that as much as it's costing me not to, I'm not hugging you or kissing you like I would be. Like… like I should be, I think. Because I _should_ be kissing you. That was something I was meant to do."

Then why? I didn't say the words, but he kept talking.

"Would you want me to? You need comfort, right now. A friend. You're asking me not to leave. But Bones…" and finally he took two more steps and we were so close… "Why won't you ask me to stay?"

"W-What?" I managed to squeak.

"I can't explain it to you."

Not to leave implied to stay. For the first time in my entire life I had the infantile wish to be smarter. Which was just ridiculous. But I wished he didn't have to explain. That I would simply know.

"But I will comfort you, if it's a friend you need. Because I _am_ your friend. And I'm…" he closed his eyes, then opened them again and I knew I'd never feel afraid again, because Booth looked at me now, not his shadow. "I'm so glad you're okay, Temperance."

His eyes shone with tears, and to my surprise I realised that _I_ was no longer crying. I had understood something, finally. Booth was the one who needed comfort now, not me. He felt deeply for me, I was almost certain of that, even if I felt so much more for him. And he'd been so afraid when I was gone. Booth was like that. So protective and good. Confused because he was attracted to me, but not wanting to take it further because he loved me like a friend…

Physiology was easy once I got the hang of it.

Or so I thought at the time.

"I'm glad you're here." I whispered, and hugged him tightly. He released a long breath and put his arms around me, hurting me with his strength, but not really hurting me.

"God, Bones…" He gasped, clinging tighter. I felt his tears in my hair, and buried my face in that place made specifically for me to rest on; that hollow between his shoulder and his neck. "_I_'m sorry. It's just… shit, I can't lose you. You're too much. I can't…"

"It's okay, Booth. I'm here. I'm okay."

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_**Please don't kill me? A little angsty, I know. **_

_**Okay, VERY angsty. But it felt right, I guess.**_

_**;)**_

_**Feel free to review before you go watch the promo over and over again!**_


	30. Chapter 30

_**After **__**last chapter's angst fest I figured this would make up for it.**_

_**;)**_

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**CHAPTER 30**

"It's okay, Booth. I'm here. I'm okay."

We stood together for a very long time. Just holding each other. Or… I think _I_ was holding _him_, and he was letting me take care of him for once. Booth was very good at shining light onto other people. So good at it, he would be blinded if someone tried to shine it on him.

Unless that someone was me. I knew this, deep inside; that I had a right to. What was that thing he'd said just now…? 'I should be kissing you. That was something I was meant to do'. Well, I was meant to hold him when he needed to be held. And to kiss him when we both needed to be held.

As I became aware of my lips brushing his neck with every breath, I mused about this statement. Something he was meant to do?

Was this really the sort of thing friends said to each other?

Booth and I were more than friends, but less than lovers. We were… partners? What did partners _mean_? What was happening? Why was I smiling like an idiot into his shoulder? Why wasn't I kissing him, _like I should be_?

"Booth…" I whispered, at the same time as he said "Bones…"

I smiled again, and drew back a little. His expression was asking me to speak first.

"Can you explain now?"

He nodded, but then seemed to rethink.

"Not while I'm holding you half-naked, Bones. Talking doesn't factor into _that_ equation."

I laughed.

"Would you be more comfortable if I got dressed?"

"No way! That would just be wrong."

He grinned, and let me go.

"Just sit, Bones. Get back into the bed."

I complied, hoping his mood would last.

"What's wrong, Booth?"

"It's pretty simple, actually. I was… worried. Well, worried falls flat but you know what I mean. I kept hearing that last… you know, on the phone."

I nodded, unconsciously holding the sheets tighter, remembering too.

"And when someone's worried for some time, even after the danger has passed, he carries this feeling with him for a while. I couldn't believe you were real. Well, it's not really that either. I couldn't believe how lucky I was. If Bram hadn't been careless with that little camera trick… shit. I can't even say it, Bones. And this has happened to us before, but before we hadn't… I wasn't… I mean, I _was_, but I didn't really know…"

"Booth, I don't know what that means."

"I just mean that every time is worse. And I kept living because there was a chance I could save you."

The strange solemn way in which he spoke made me shiver. A different, new kind of fear was the cause, but I didn't understand its consequence.

"I'm sorry I was so horrible just now. But Bones, all this emotion, I was angry! At myself mostly, but also at you. You're so… frustrating!"

"I know. I'm sorry…"

"No, don't say you're sorry. _I_'m sorry. I was… it's just that you make it so hard for me to… no, that's not… shit, I can't say that."

"Can't say what?"

"Nothing. Nothing, Bones, forget it."

"I never forget."

He smiled a little.

"I guess not. But I'm still not explaining."

I felt incredibly frustrated by this fact.

"I meant that I was cruel just now because I've been through a lot this past couple of days. Meaning you."

"Okay. I think I understand now."

"Really?"

"Yes. You were afraid that I would not be alive when you found me." Not _if_ you found me. When. "You care about me, about our partnership and about the victims we save. You care, Booth. You're very good at understanding 'the heart', even though it's an organ with absolutely no ties to the neurological system and can't influence our emotional responses…"

He was almost laughing, so I decided not to explain.

"Anyway, you're good at understanding people. Emotions, all those things. So your fear made you act like you did."

He nodded. "And I was angry, too. Don't forget that."

"I was too emotionally involved in the case." I wasn't trying to justify my mistakes. Just to make the reason for them clear. "I always find it hard not to, but this time was especially bad. Women in danger. Women we could save, not just a killer to catch. Live people, Booth. Not haunted memories of victims."

He took my hand and squeezed it.

"I know, Bones. But you still have to be responsible. I don't know anyone who's more rational or intelligent or competent. You're collected, and effective, but I also don't know anyone who's as careless about herself as you are."

Careless?

And should I care that the only adjectives he could think of were "rational, intelligent, competent, collected and effective"?

"You care so much about everyone else that you forget about _you_, Bones. That beautiful thing you said once about shining a light… that I didn't shine one on myself… you do the exact same thing."

If I hadn't said what I did next, we would have probably managed to keep this situation controlled. A conversation. A tense one, but also one we needed to have for a while.

Instead, I couldn't help but say:

"I guess we're both together in the dark."

He didn't answer. He just held my gaze, and held my hand, and metaphorically held my _all_ somehow as well.

I would make it his choice, however. His decision, whether momentary peace was worth more complications. But like Booth had said… all that fear, all those feelings…

"Bones…" His voice was low and husky, and his eyes once again reminded me of night and skies and dark, dark deeds…

His hand moved from my hand to my thigh in one soft movement. I felt electrically alive. And revelled in the feeling.

"I don't think you should have said that, Bones…"

He moved his rough, hot fingers up slowly. I burned, alive. His hand was leaving a trail of hot, hot skin. Hot eyes tracked my every blink, every swish of an eyelash and every lick of parted lips… hot mouth half open in wonder, teasing me, so close…

His hand was almost there. And suddenly I had enough.

I didn't want slow anymore. I wanted _alive_.

I grabbed his hand with my left one and pushed it right into me, wet centre beginning to be touched. With my right I yanked his tie down until my lips meshed with his.

His small gasp of surprise quickly gave to a growl of approval, and he climbed onto the small bed so that he was straddling me, one hand still between my legs.

He tilted his head for more contact, pulling me closer and letting me undo his tie, and the addictive taste of him became all I could think about. Well, that's a lie, because his hand was incredibly distracting. His hand probing gently, softly, teasing, making me hurt with need.

So once again I grabbed it and pushed in. He chuckled and complied, but better than I could have ever dreamed of. Sliding in, out, faster, slower again until the friction with the fabric and his hand, and just the feverish frenzy of it all made me explode.

My loud, long moan of pleasure was stifled by his mouth. He drew back to watch me, following every movement and every spasm with fascination, a smile on his face. His other hand was in my hair, gently pulling it away from my face to see better. Despite what had to be an uncomfortable erection pressing against my thighs, he just _looked_ at me.

I grabbed the collar of his shirt then, having none of this being apart business, and pulled once more. He was smiling when our lips touched, I felt it before they parted and I was drugged by his taste again.

Booth. Booth all around me, Booth inside of me, Booth over me…

"Bones…"

"Hmm…?"

My legs wrapped around him, pulling his waist down so that I could feel him pressing against me. So that every inch of him touched every inch of me and we were glued together…

His face was so close to mine it was blurred. But the intensity in his eyes remained sharp and hot, so very hot, my Booth…

"Nothing."

I kissed him again, deep and long, and then tugged his hair so he pulled back and I could drill into his eyes.

"I never forget, Booth."

"I know." He chuckled, then kissed my earlobe.

I remembered that first time, our first 'slip'. In that car, when we couldn't look into the other's eyes because that would mean the end. How different this felt, now. How complicated, too, but also real, something I would remember forever. Perhaps it was fear that let us give in now, this one last time. But the cause didn't matter. I was living its consequence now.

But suddenly, right after that innocent kiss he sprang back and jumped off me, to stand guard next to me once more. I felt cold with shock. It was so quick, his move.

I couldn't believe it. I felt insecure and exposed, and incredibly embarrassed. This hadn't happened before. He was still aroused, still breathing heavily and of the large, hard lump in his pants he had to be painfully aware. His eyes were still dark, but he was smiling, like a proud little child.

I couldn't speak first.

"I can't believe I just did this." He admitted, staring at me with wonder.

Did what? I stared at him, wondering whether I could cover myself with the sheet conspicuously.

"It was hell but… for you, Bones. If I think it's for you the whole thing becomes easier. You're tired, you've been through hell and every time I see the cast on your hand I can't stand it. I want you, but we can't. You know that, right? I really, really want to. But we can't."

He put his hands on either side of my face and gave a the longest, most wonderful, addictive, best… _last_ kiss we'd ever had.

"I'm going to leave now, okay? We'll be fine. You're all right. I'm very glad you're all right."

He turned away with a smile, leaving me confused, teary-eyed and once again, alone.

So I just blurted out:

"I love you."

Oh fuck.

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_**I'm a cliff-hanger addict! **__**That's all I have to say for myself!**_

_**I'll try not to indulge my addiction so often, promise!!!**_


	31. Chapter 31

_**Thank you so much! My review-high has been quite impressive these days. Even managing to quelch my cliff-hanger cravings!**_

_**;)**_

_**Thanks for being so amazing!**_

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**CHAPTER 31**

"_I love you."_

It took three steps for him to stop walking, and almost an entire minute for him to turn around and look at me. I wanted to shout that I didn't mean it, pretend I hadn't said what I said, or maybe just run, run away until the shame couldn't follow me anymore.

Metaphorically speaking.

Was I as desperate for his presence as this? As needy as to actually let myself say it?

He looked… lost. I didn't know what to say, whether to cry or laugh or just beg him to forget it.

So I didn't say anything.

"What did you just…?" he croaked finally.

I couldn't. I couldn't say it again. To my horror I realised a part of me had been hoping for some sort of reciprocation, which made no sense because I had already rationally decided my feelings were not returned. I was suddenly glad that I hadn't been connected to a monitor to measure my pulse, because then the pounding of my heart would have been obvious to both of us.

"Bones, please don't play games with me."

"Not a game."

He walked slowly toward me, like a weary hunter afraid his prey wasn't quite dead yet.

"What do you mean? What… did you just…? Why would you say that?"

The tears were coming again. I felt the stinging sensation in my eyes and fought it. I just looked at him.

"Bones, I heard you, right? I mean… You _did_ say…?"

Not a single drop escaped my lashes, I just breathed.

"Bones, talk to me!"

I blinked, but still not a tear fell down. Feeling secretly proud of this fact, I just sat still.

"Temperance…"

Alas, my undoing.

"You heard me."

"Did you mean it?" He asked, taking a step toward me. I was taken aback by the force irradiating from his eyes. A sort of hopeful violent joy that would burn anything in it's path, including me.

My phone rang.

Had I been prone to watch more movies or maybe find the time to read more often I would have noted on the clichéd moment of the interruption of a pivotal conversation. As it was, I quickly wrenched my eyes from his grasp and twisted to find my cell.

It had been on the night-table next to my bed and now it was vibrating, making the glass of water next to it rattle dangerously. I quickly answered it without checking the caller ID once again. "Brennan."

"_Dr Brennan? Is Booth with you at this moment?"_

"Who is this?"

"_I think you know."_

I motioned to Booth and he understood by the look in my eyes who I was speaking to. Without a word he rushed off to ask for a trace on the call. The feelings between us, so important seconds ago were shoved back to second place, before work.

"Mr Bram, I was beginning to think you'd disappeared. Where are Anne and Margaret?"

"_They are __away, Tempe."_

Oh God. Away?

"I need to talk to them. What have you done, Frank? Are they alive?"

"_Of course. Why would I hurt Margaret?"_

Anne. Please, Anne!

"Bram, let me speak to Anne." I tried to hide the worry in my voice, even though he must be able to hear the slightest tremble. "Just Anne, please…"

"_I miss seeing you, Tempe. You were so beautiful. But if you don't stop looking for me with your friends, I'm really going to regret not killing you."_

And he hung up.

I sat on the bed, immobile for approximately three seconds preparing the most efficient course of action, then made a decision. I got up, dressed in the new clothes Angela had left for me, and sprinted out of the room.

"Booth!" I looked around the corridor, trying to find him. A few people were walking up and down, probably patients, and two nurses were helping an elderly woman into her room, but Booth was nowhere to be found.

"Brennan, sweetie!" Angela was at the other end, a few metres in front of me. "It's five in the evening, you can't leave until tomorrow…"

"Frank Bram just called me!"

"_What_?"

I leveled with her and began walking quickly.

"Where's Booth?"

"He just ran past me, that way…"

I broke into a jog, and my friend followed my pace easily.

"What have you found out?" I asked. "You've examined the place, right? The house where I was found? You've performed the necessary procedures…?"

"Yes, yes, everything. But I haven't been to the lab to ask for results yet, I was with you the entire-"

"Then Hodgins! Get me Hodgins on the phone! I need to know what they've found out. First priority, is Margaret Stoker still alive? Second priority, does any evidence suggest where Bram could have taken her and Anne? Third-"

"Hey! Slow down, Bren, you only woke up a couple of hours ago!"

"I can't."

"Why this sudden…?"

"Because I can deal with everything else once this is over. Until then, my life is on hold, Angela." I said firmly. This was no time for frivolous sentiment. "I need you to help me now. Why did Bram let me live? I can't understand why he didn't kill me. It was the logical thing to do. Leaving me to die is not the same as making sure I don't tell everyone he was the killer. He knew there was a chance I would be found, or would find a way to escape. All that work, trying to lay the blame on someone else, for nothing?"

"What makes you think I have an idea…?"

"Angela, you understand better than I do. Help me. Please, why would he leave me behind alive?"

"I…" we stopped, having reached the main hall. Two FBI Agents were speaking to Booth and he had a phone by his ear.

"Booth!" I called, pushing past everyone between us.

"Hey, Bones they couldn't trace it. Only get that it was a payphone, but the call was too short."

"I considered the possibility of failure. All right, I want to know the facts."

He stared at me for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

"What do you mean?" he settled for finally.

"I want to know everything. What have you found? Trace evidence, fingerprints, proof of life for Mrs Stoker… Have you begun investigating Frank Bram? Why did he have so many alibis? Have you interrogated any of his 'friends'? Can you take me to the Jeffersonian now? Hodgins must be…"

"Bones, you can't be on this case anymore."

"What?"

The world around me froze, but not the way it had last time when I was looking at Booth and time let us forget that seconds flew by so fast… no, this time the world blurred into nothingness as a choking, horrible feeling flooded me. Just like before, a dark force sucking the life out of me, leaving me alone. Even with Booth right in front of me it came back: cold emptiness.

He took my arm and walked me over to a corner, away from Angela and the Agents. I was swaying slightly, and blinded by fury, but his touch was warm and his eyes kept the fear momentarily at bay.

"Bones, you're no longer allowed to be fully involved in the…"

"I know what 'can't be on the case' means!" I burst out, feeling nonetheless trapped. "How can you say that? _Why_? Are you afraid that my capture will compromise my objectivity?"

"No. But my bosses are. They absolutely forbid me to let you… I'm sorry, just listen… it's protocol, Bones. You know that."

I couldn't believe this. "Booth, you can't do this to me…" I breathed, putting a hand on the wall to steady myself. If I wasn't there nothing would get done properly. They'd mess it all up. Everything would be ruined. Booth was an excellent agent, but he couldn't command my team by himself without a forensic background. What would we do? What would happen to Anne?

"Bones, you have no idea how hard I fought against them…"

"No. I need to finish this. I _need_ to be involved! You still need a forensic anthropologist! Who will take over?"

"No one. The evidence is particulate matter from now on. There are no new bodies, and the other ones have already been through the most thorough examination by you." His hand was still on my arm, and for a crazy moment, as he said those terrible things, I wanted to wrench it away from me. But it wasn't Booth's fault. I needed him, and he knew what really mattered. He understood my mind like no one else.

He knew who I was.

To prevent myself from letting thoughts go back to our conversation from before, I tried to think of alternatives. And in my mind a new course of action began to form…

"Bones, let me talk for a second, okay? I know how you feel about protocol. I know you always stick to it but that you ignore it without second thought when that's the right thing to do."

Could it be…?

"This is the right thing to do, Bones. They can't stop you from going to work."

A warm rush invaded my body, and I smiled at Booth, fiercely proud to be his partner today more than ever.

"Thank you."

"Just remember you'll have to lie. You're not allowed to work on the case technically…"

I cut him off with a kiss.

"Thank you, Booth."

He quickly glanced at Angela, who was speaking to one of the Agents (Agent Dan Norris now that I looked at him, one of the idiots I'd met at the fundraiser). Having asserted no one we knew was looking at us, he pulled me into him and returned the gesture with a long, heated, spine arching…

"We should go." I said, firmly putting a hand on his chest.

"We'll talk when this is over."

I nodded.

After saying goodbye to Agent Norris and Agent Pendrell, I turned to Angela.

"Meet you at the Jeffersonian, okay Ange? We can discuss scenarios once more and try a few simulations I have in mind."

"Okay."

"I need you on this, Angela. I couldn't do it without you."

She smiled and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

"Bones, let's go. I'm driving."

"For once, Booth, could I…?"

"Two of your fingers are broken and you've been in hospital the past thirty-six hours!"

"I remain a very good driver!"

"No way."

"Please?"

When I opened the door of the hospital to exit into the sunlight, a feather-light brush of fingers against my back made me smile, despite of the circumstances.

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_**Don't hate me. **_

_**Or cellphones. Hating cellphones is wrong. Just think of what we'd do without them.**_

_**Please.**_

_**Instead of hating me, review this chapter. Reviewing is good. Hating is bad.**_

_**Think about it! ;)**_


	32. Chapter 32

_***smiles gleefully* This has fluff in it!**_

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**CHAPTER 32**

"What do you remember? I'm not asking for the exact details, just a general overview!"

"I think it's better that you hear this in the lab, from Hodgins, who can tell you the way you like it, and be more accurate than me."

"Come on Booth, just a few facts."

"No, because then you complain I'm not being scientific enough or specific enough or…"

"Please, Booth?"

I leaned closer to him in the confined space and smiled, hoping it would work. I was never sure of how much I affected Booth's concentration, or even if I could draw his attention toward me by using certain feminine advantages.

"Please?" I breathed, letting my voice drip the way I always wanted to speak when he looked at me with darkness in his eyes.

The car skidded, almost collided with a large white van, then ground to a halt amidst blaring sirens.

"Holy Christ!" he yelled, restarting the engine and driving to park next to the sidewalk.

I sat back and wondered why the smile I wore on my face hadn't blinded the people staring at us angrily. The doubts chasing away in my mind about Booth's feelings for me left, because it didn't matter what he felt as long as he let me have these moments of possibility. Maybe he didn't love me, maybe that was why he hadn't said it back, but during a few hours I could believe that he _might_, and that was bliss enough for me. I could bear anything after this. Even his rejection, because he let me live with joy for now.

So doubts were replaced by a choking happiness that had nothing to do with the sun shining in the sky or the breeze ruffling my hair…

"Bones…"

"I know." I said, almost laughing but not quite. "I'll never do that again. I'm sorry."  
"What? No, that's not what I was going to say."

He was looking at me with both darkness and humour in his eyes. How did he do it?

"I was going to say, Bones, don't ever do that again _while I'm driving_. There are plenty of times when I'd kill to hear you use that damn sexy voice again-"

I couldn't help myself, although that isn't exactly a precise justification for what I did then.

I kissed him so deep my nerve-endings sparked to life in a very new and exciting way. I'd never kissed him like this before, and he'd never responded like this either. Could saying 'I love you' change anything? It was scientifically impossible that words, which after all were sounds we called phonemes emitted by the vocal…

You know what? I stopped thinking about phonemes after his tongue entwined with mine.

After some undetermined time, we broke apart. Even though we'd needed to stop many times before, it felt easier, even more natural to simply look at one another now. Not just kiss furiously like the world would end. It felt less difficult to separate if I knew I could look at him and smile afterwards.

"When this is all over…" he began, letting his fingers brush my cheek. I nodded, and more gravely put my hand on his and gently pushed it onto the steering wheel.

"But now we should go."

"Yeah."

He kicked the car into gear and we sped toward the Jeffersonian, off to do what we did best.

The centre.

United.

*

We entered the Jeffersonian with matching looks of determination, but for the first time had to pause for the security check. The guard, a man who'd been there for some time but who I deeply disliked, actually asked Booth for ID.

"He's with me. And you've seen him before, I believe."

"Calm down, missy. I'm just obeying the rules."

"But you always let us pass through without so much as looking at my badge… is today the day you've decided to turn your life around?" Booth asked sarcastically. I grinned, and the guard shot Booth a look of disgust.

"Don't be so cocky there, Mr Booth."

"That's _Agent_ Booth." I corrected him with raised eyebrows.

"Whatever." The guard threw the FBI badge back at Booth and my partner caught it in mid-air. I felt ridiculously proud to be standing next to him at that moment.

As we walked into the lad, Booth nudged me.

"What was with him?"

"I don't know, but he's been warned once for drinking during a night shift."

"I hate this place. For a cop, this lab is a nightmare. Your security is terrible."

I rolled my eyes. "We have state of the art equipment, and our security may not be quite as impressive, but it's decent, Booth. Stop criticising this noble institution."

I was attempting to be funny, but he charm-smiled me anyway. "I won't do it again. But I love it when you're so proud of your workplace…"

"Dr Brennan!"

Hodgins was on the platform. He waved me over to him, and I quickly separated from Booth, impatient to know everything.

"Facts, Dr Hodgins. Preliminary first, then detailed."

"Sure, Dr Brennan. Just let me get my notes straight…Is Angela coming?" he asked as he shuffled papers.

"She should be here any minute. Why?"

"Oh nothing, Dr B. No problem. What about Dr Saroyan?"

"She's over there, Dr Hodgins, by Jeanie Whitmore's remains, talking to Booth. Which you could clearly see from your standing point. Enough postponing. Now please, tell me your findings."

"Okay. Here goes." He motioned me toward the monitor displaying a graphic of analysed particulates, with columns for every element indicating quantity and concentration. "We found no hint of women's clothing at the scene, which means either he makes them wear the same clothes every day, or he took them…"

"No deductions yet, Dr Hodgins. Just the facts."

"Yeah, sorry. Okay so no women's clothing, but plenty of hairs. Three women: Anne Stoker, Margaret Stoker and… you. None of his."

I nodded, ignoring the sharp, uncomfortably painful stab of fear the recollection brought.

"They've searched the entire house, and found no murder weapon; none of the knives there match the one used on the victims. The shoes are still being analysed, haven't gotten those particulates yet, fingerprints everywhere: Anne's, Margaret's and yours."

"Bram?"

He shook his head. I couldn't believe it.

"Not a single fingerprint of Bram's?" I repeated, to make myself absolutely clear.

"Was he wearing gloves when you saw him?" Hodgins asked.

"No."  
"Then he must have been whenever else he moved inside the house. We found several footprints that match the one in Margaret Stoker's window, so we know it was him who took her, but…"

"No evidence to prove it was his."

"Exactly. Just that he had the same shoes. What kind of killer is so careful?"  
"One that hasn't begun making mistakes yet. And I don't mean that in the redundant sense."

"Yeah, I understood."

We were silent for a few seconds. Then my curiosity got the better of me.

"All right, what else Hodgins?"

"I've been working for a day. There are no more clues yet, Dr B. I'm waiting for the sample of soil on the shoes, but that might take another couple of hours. Also, Mr Bram doesn't own any other property than his house, which isn't exactly a mansion."

"I only saw one room."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry Dr Brennan."  
"That's okay." I smiled at him to shake off the look of guilt on his face, and suddenly… "Wait. I just… remembered something."

I turned away sharply and walked over to Booth.

"What is it?" he said immediately.

"Bram had alibis. Four of them. Friends saying he was with them. Receipts from the night Margaret Stoker was kidnapped. Then Kevin Stoker died because his cellmate killed him. How did he do that? How did he convince so many people to do what he asked?"

Booth nodded in understanding.

"It's about psychology, Bones. You won't like it."

"Then don't explain it to me. But you are sure it can be done? I mean, it really is possible to influence other people that way? Make them do what you want, even if it's for something evil?"  
With the hint of a smile, he nodded.

"Okay. I trust you." I turned away, satisfied.

Cam, who still stood next to Booth, whispered: "Do you think she actually doubted that?" It was soft, and I pretended not to hear, but the meaning of her tone was unclear. I tried not to feel hurt; I'd always felt Cam was a good co-worker, and maybe not a friend but certainly a respected acquaintance. Did she think I was being intentionally unintelligent, or that I really _was_ unintelligent? A prickle of insecurity made me slow my step, and I wondered whether people would laugh at me if they heard me ask what I'd really want to know: How? How does someone become as horribly twisted as the people whose fault it was that I worked with Booth?

"Yes." His voice I'd know anywhere. And somehow, without seeing, I felt him grow serious and look at me as I walked away. Although it was conjecture, of course. He might be looking at Cam, the normal thing to do in a conversation. And yet…

"She feels the dark in human nature, but will never understand it. That's what makes her unique, Cam. The pure, good, _passion_ in her. Can't you see it? That force, like a blue fire behind her eyes…"

And I couldn't hear anymore without walking back to them. Which I really shouldn't do, but I felt like running to him now more than ever.

This was how I understood what it is to love somebody.

In this simple act, I felt it all: the heart, beating in my chest at a rhythm so frantic I though I would go into cardiac arrest from simple Joy. I felt the rush, an indescribable feeling because it didn't belong to a specific organ, the rush flood my brain and cloud my vision as I smiled, smiled a shining smile that was almost a laugh. I felt the fizzing of the blood (improbable, unless there was a high temperature that would undoubtedly kill me), I felt those butterflies in the stomach (unusual, as they don't feed on human tissue, and I would already be dead), I even felt the urge to fly (impossible, because I am a human being).

I finally understood everything in a dizzying millisecond as I walked and he talked about the fire behind my eyes… Booth.

I wasn't a human being as I gave in to the urge to turn and look at him, because I felt like I _could_ fly.

And saw the man with the gun pointed to Booth's back, and ran…

No, _flew_ to him.

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_**I debated on cutting the chapter **__**earlier. But this cliffie was like a blow-your-mind awesome dosage. It was like… the climax of cliff-hangers.**_

_**I will never need to use again because I will always be satisfied with this one.**_

_**And if any of that sounded sexual in ANY way, let me assure you it wasn't my intention.**_

_**It just **_**came up**_** that way.**_

_**Fine, I'm stopping now!**_


	33. Chapter 33

_**Hey everyone!!!**_

_**I have to say that **__**I've simply LOVED the past two eps (meaning Mayhem and Girl). What did you think about Girl, especially? I thought a serious dose of angst and more respect was long overdue, and this satisfied my cravings with added character development, cute moments and a BRILLIANT Booth I wish we had all the time.**_

_**;)**_

_**Sorry, now w**__**ithout further ado, chapter 33 (I can't believe I'm already on 33. WOW)!**_

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**CHAPTER 33**

And saw the man with the gun pointed to Booth's back, and ran…

No, _flew_ to him.

The guard pulled the trigger at the same time that I screamed "Booth!" so that shot and name became one.

His perfect instincts told him to kick the legs out from underneath Cam without even turning around to see what the danger was, because she was standing too close to him. At risk, and he didn't even try to save himself, his first thought was for someone else. She crashed to the floor in slow motion as I kept running, because he still stood upright and there was blood.

The perpetual saviour, he'd chosen to help others before himself. I slammed an examination table away and sent it crashing to the side of the platform, and reached him just as he swayed. He looked very pale, and I let him collapse onto of me while twisting around as quickly as I could, to shield his body with mine.

But no more shots came. There were screams, yells, and the thump of two bodies colliding. I turned for the briefest of moments to check and assess the threat, but there was none: the other guards were cuffing him.

Suddenly Cam was by my side, a bruise already forming on her cheek.

"Brennan, you should let go of him." She said, snapping me out of my slow motion reverie, brought on by stress and panic, no doubt. I realised I'd been clutching Booth too tightly, and quickly let go. The blood came from his arm, a graze on the inner triceps. It wouldn't cause permanent damage, and Booth would be fine. A terrible choking weight lifted slightly, and I could hear my own heartbeat again.

"Bones… you okay?" he croaked, squinting up at me. I could imagine the picture he'd be seeing: of me looking down at him once more, the fluorescent lights shining around my head, illuminating the familiar worried expression.

"Me?" I said, noting the tense vocal chords which resulted in a high, strained (there's really no other word for it) _squeak_. "You must be in terrible pain, Booth. Don't talk, save your strength, relax…"

Oh, but this scene was too similar, too close to my nightmares.

"Bones, I'm fine." He looked up at me and even tried to sit up. "I've had worse, okay? Don't look like that."

I took a deep breath, allowing oxygen to quicken my nerve synapses and metaphorically clear my thoughts.

Cam had left, I hadn't noticed, and now she was back with a white sterile compress. I applied the pressure to stench the blood flow. The bullet had only grazed him, I told myself again. He'd be fine. My chest really hurt though.

Our faces were very close. I could see that he wasn't really scared, not like… when he was injured before.

Think about Booth. Why was the Jeffersonian spinning? I took a deep breath again, but now a sharp, incredibly painful stab made gasp.

"Bones?"

My vision blackened. I fought to keep my hand steady against his wound, but all strength seemed to leave my body.

"Bones!" Booth said, his eyes wide with horror. He pointed to my chest and I looked down. There was blood. A lot of blood.

He yanked at my shirt until it ripped open and we both looked at my chest.

"Shit." He panted, sitting up so that our faces were on the same level. "You almost killed me."

"Don't joke about that." I snapped.

There was no wound. All the blood was Booth's. I took another deep breath, and let myself collapse next to him, suddenly exhausted. The past days were taking their toll on me.

"Breathe, Bones." He stroked my cheek with his good arm, and I took another deep breath. Sudden shock can affect the human body if the adrenalin rush is very quick, so that our system has no time to adjust. That is undoubtedly what happened to me, and was also the cause of the pain in my chest.

"I'm fine." He said again. "Just breathe."

Well, how perfectly ridiculous that the injured partner should help the perfectly healthy one. I took a few more deep breaths and avoided eye-contact with the twenty or so people surrounding us. Once I felt better, I stood up.

"Um… Dr B?" Hodgins said, obviously avoiding looking at my chest. I couldn't help but feel rather amused, amidst my embarrassment, as my friend squirmed and Booth shot murderous glances his way.

One of the female interns who tended to act very nervous around Booth summoned the courage to ask.

"Will Agent Booth be all right?"

There really was quite a lot of blood. I pushed back my worries and complicated feelings about the situation, and took control. Turning away from my partner, I addressed the crowd gathered all around and below us.

"Please return to your tasks, I feel confident…" but scared, and helpless, and angry, and very, very desperate to hold him again "…that Agent Booth will recover successfully. However, for that to happen we must get you to the hospital." I instructed, turning to deliver the last sentence straight to him. "Has someone called 911?"

"I did." One of my shyest interns said.

I was surprised. He'd seemed so quiet in lectures, never asking questions, and he'd been the first to react before the crisis. Making a mental note of this I took off my lab coat, shed the remains of my torn shirt, and then donned the coat again to cover my breasts.

This gesture received quite a lot of attention, and I could almost swear I heard a collective (but very, very quiet so as to be out of earshot from Booth) groan at the end.

"Booth, can you stand?"

"Yeah. I think the bullet grazed my triceps, don't think it hit a ligament, the pain is too localised to muscle mass…"

I was very surprised. I'd always known Booth was intelligent but I never expected him to actually demonstrate this fact before everybody else. People tended to underestimate my partner. "I mean" he added quickly "it hurts like hell but I'll probably be able to shoot people again."

"Let's go, Booth-"

"People like _you_." He snapped at a tech I didn't know, but who had admittedly been looking at me in a specific manner. I winced at the strain in his voice; he must be in great pain, no matter how tough Booth was.

However, now that is was clear that he wasn't in imminent danger, people began moving away, and we all turned to look down at the floor level to see what had happened. A frightening, violent surge of hate left me breathless as I saw the familiar face staring at me and my partner. A man I'd seen so often and never feared. Instinctively, I took a step to my left to protect Booth from any harm, even though the guard had been restrained by his former companions, and was being held down on the floor.

"I want to be in the interrogation room when he is questioned." I stated loudly, knowing that in the silence of the lab, he'd hear. Everyone was looking at me now, but all I felt was the wet warmth of Booth's blood prickling my skin.

"You're not coming with me to the hospital?"

And there it was again: the rush, the pounding heart, the butterflies, the fizzing blood… his tone had been so _special_.

"Booth." I walked back to him and stood as close to him as I dared. If I'd had any inclination to look around us, I would have seen that the people who'd been walking away turned again, to watch. "If I can help get this man to tell me why he tried to murder you, I'll sleep tonight. I want to get Bram, I want to rescue Anne and Margaret so that this can be over. No matter how much I want to be with you, we need to end this."

"Okay, Bones. Thanks."

For a moment we just faced each other, standing very, very close. Was he going to kiss me right in front of everybody else?

He stroked my cheek with his good arm and kissed my forehead.

"Booth, come on, the ambulance is here." Cam said softly. Hodgins went down to help the medics carry a stretcher toward us and I slowly lead Booth down the steps of the platform.

A flurry of movement suggested people suddenly remembering a bunch of very important tasks to be performed while looking resolutely away from us.

"Bones…" he whispered in my ear, just as I was laying him down. His face looked very pale, and he'd lost quite a lot of blood. Please be all right, Booth. Keep your promise.

"Rest, Booth."

"No, wait…" he was struggling to speak now. The effort of walking had really spent him. The medics were looking at me reproachfully, I could see they wanted to take Booth to the emergency unit as quickly as possible.

"Booth, we'll talk later."

"But I just realised I haven't told you yet…"

"Later."

And like that they took him away from me. I took a deep breath and resisted the urge to run behind him. Using the anger to fuel my resolve, I turned to the security guard. His name was Phillip Black, I remembered.

He was going to pay for what he'd done.

I strode toward him and the other guard, who was still pinning him face-down into the ground.

"Dr Brennan I'd advise you step away…" the guard began, but I leant down next to him and looked Booth's attacker in the eye. With as much cruelty as I could muster, I said:

"I'm going to make sure you spend your life in prison, Mr Black. I'm going to bury you so deep you'll suffocate to death. I hope, I really hope you die inside that hole."

He didn't answer, just avoided my eyes.

"Haul him up." I ordered the other guard. He didn't even question me; the local PD were on their way anyway.

The moment he was standing, I drew back my fist and punched Black as hard as I could. His head snapped to the side and he shouted in pain.

"Are you crazy, bitch?"

"If you every try and hurt my partner again, I'll punch your neck the way I should have! I'll make your throat close up because the trachea will obstruct and fail to provide air to your lungs, meaning your heartbeat will increase rapidly and then stop until you _die_, you fucking loser!"

"Dr Brennan, step back."

I did, breathing heavily and feeling marginally better.

"Come on, you can use the decontamination shower." Cam said, taking my arm and ushering me away from Phillip Black. I saw that the ends of my hair were glued together with blood, and my neck was slick with it.

"Okay." I let her walk me there, followed by Hodgins, who looked anxious.

"Doctor Hodgins? What is it?"  
"Where's Angela, Dr B?"

"I told you, she's… on her way."

He voiced my thoughts with another nervous look. "You said that half an hour ago."

I nodded. "Yes. Call her, please."

Cam shot a stern look at Hodgins. "Go, then. She's probably caught in traffic, no need to worry Dr Brennan any more than she already is. No need to add more problems, okay?"

Hodgins left, ignoring Cam's last comment.

I kept walking with Cam by my side. "Booth will be fine." She said reassuringly.

"He's lost a lot of blood."

"He's had worse."

"I know that. That doesn't mean anything."

"Relax, Brennan."

"I can't." I stopped at the door to the decontamination room. "I can't relax without him."

Cam nodded. "I know. But he's still here, okay?"

Even though he obviously wasn't, I understood her metaphorical reassurance. Thank you, Camille. You knew what it was like to love Booth too.

She patted my arm and left me to cleanse away my doubts.

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_**I'm sorry this took a bit longer! But kick-ass Brennan is **__**cool. Hopefully I made up for it?**_

_**Thanks, guys! As always: you are MADE OF AWESOME!!!**_


	34. Chapter 34

_**Sorry for the delay! Unfortunately it's going to be much harder for me to post for the next two weeks, and I blame that fully on exams. I dream exams, I breathe exams, **__**I live, study, study exams, I even eat them up!**_

_**That's why I broke down and wrote this. ;)**_

_**.**_

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**CHAPTER 34**

The shower helped, but not much. I realised that I was alone now. Alone against Frank Bram, because Booth would have to stay in the hospital at least for a week, more if he actually listened to what the doctors recommend.

Angela has beautiful large brown eyes. Bram hated that. He hated… or loved, or whatever it was that he felt, he felt it about women with dark eyes. With a chill that had nothing to do with cold water, I remembered his question.

"_Are your eyes blue enough?"_

Angela's eyes were brown. They most certainly weren't blue enough. I closed the tap and towelled my hair roughly. Cam had left my spare set of clothes on a chair; jeans and a flowy purple shirt. I kept clothes in my office for the days when I stayed to sleep in the lab, and supposed she'd found me out.

"Cam?" I called at the lab in general. Everyone turned to look at me, but I ignored the questioning, curious glances. "Cam!" I shouted again.

"Here, Dr Brennan!" Cam replied in the corner of the lab. I strode over to her, feeling a crushing weight added over me when I saw someone was cleaning Booth's blood from the platform floor. Cam looked pale and worried.

"Where is Angela?" I said before she could speak.

"Come with me, you should hear it yourself."

"Hear what?"

Hodgins was waiting in Angela's office, looking completely dumbstruck, staring at the far wall. He didn't even turn when we entered.

"Play it for Brennan, Hodgins."

"I can't hear it again." He said, his voice choked. And with shining eyes he left the room.  
"Hodgins-" I called, but a firm hand on my shoulder from Cam was enough to stop me. I felt like I was caught in a nightmare and I just couldn't wake up.

"Are you ready?"

"Just play it." I said grimly.

Cam went over to Angela's large computer screen and pressed a few keys. Immediately the sound of a phone beeping filled the room, coming from my friend's speakers in every corner. After four rings Angela picked it up.

"_Help_!" she said, her voice strained. "_I don't know where I am but it's quiet and_-"

"Angie! It's me, Hodgins."

"_Oh, God_…" she was crying. "_Jack, Bram was waiting in my car. He just sprang at me, I couldn't do anything_…"

"Where are you, Angela?"

"_I don't know, I'm tied up, and I can't see anything."_

"You don't remember anything?"

"_No. I never saw anything, he knocked me out. I can only smell…"_

"Wait, how did you answer the phone?"  
She began to sob, and I suddenly my legs buckled and I fell. Numbly I registered the couch stopped me from hitting the floor, but just sat, gripping the fabric with white knuckles.

"_He's here! Holding it to my ear_."

"Angie, we'll find you. You're going to be okay! Tell me anything you can-"

"_Nah, I don't think that's going to happen, Dr Hodgins_."

"Bram, you son of a bitch! Let her go! What's she done to you? What has she done! Her name is Angela! Let her go!"

"_You found Dr Brennan_."

"Angela Montenegro! She's an artist! She's a wonderful, innocent artist who-!"

"_She won't suffer, you know. She's very strong. Her eyes are very dark… Goodbye, Hodgins_."

In the background, very faintly, I heard. "_Jack_!"

And then the call went dead.

"Did no one trace this?" I asked quietly.

"What?"

"Did no one trace this." I repeated, more loudly.

"No. Dr Hodgins used his cell phone and didn't take the necessary precautions. He was just worried about her, Brennan."

"It was long enough. We could have triangulated a signal." I said through clenched teeth, but really I knew I probably wouldn't have thought of it either. "What time?"

"Five minutes ago. Six, I'm not sure."

"She's already bound and tied. I spoke to her almost an hour ago, say fifty minutes. So if she got to her car in five minutes since we parted, and the call was five minutes ago, they can't be anywhere far from the hospital. He'd need at least ten minutes to drag her inside, tie her up… at least, so that gives us a half an hour radius, maximum."

"Okay. But that's still a very large area, Brennan. Traffic isn't very bad at this time, he could be-"

"She's alive. She's still alive, I don't understand that."

"What?"

The pathologist walked over to where I was sitting and looked down at me, afraid and worried and tired. "What do you mean, Brennan?"

"He never took the victims. He killed them and then left them on the crime scene. He never took anyone."

"I'm going to call Sweets-"

"Why are you going to call me?"

Dr Sweets had just entered the office. For once, something had gone right. "Dr Sweets, we need your help. At this point, even psychology might be useful."

"I'm glad you think so highly of my work-" he began sarcastically (I think), but I cut across him.

"No time. I need you to help me get Frank Bram."

"I gave you the profile, didn't I?"

"You must have given it to Booth." I said dismissively. "Just listen to me. He's changed, hasn't he? He used to murder them. He went to their homes and he killed them there, the women he loved, or hated, I don't really know why, I don't do why, I just do _how_-"

On 'how' my voice cracked and I realised I was choking back tears. "The point is, he kidnapped Margaret Stoker. He took me, and now he's… he's _stolen_ Angela."

Sweets took a step back as though someone had hit him.

"He's taken Angela?"

"Yes. We have no time, okay?" I stood up, but the motion gave me a head-rush and I had to sit back down. "Answer my questions and we'll find her faster, I promise."

"Okay. Okay, fire away."

A tear trickled out of the corner of my eye, and I didn't wipe it away.

"So why does he do it? Why has he suddenly changed his entire MO? Angela doesn't even have a boyfriend. I didn't have a boyfriend either, but Bram didn't know that. I… I don't understand _anything_."

Dr Sweets nodded and motioned to Cam for her to sit down, but she refused.

"I can tell you why Frank Bram murdered those three women first: Helen, Lily and Sandra. In them, he saw the image of Margaret Stoker, who had always been the object of his affections."

"But he didn't even start working for them until three months ago…" I began desperately.

"He asked for the job because he was already in love."

"Don't say in love" Cam said suddenly. "Please don't say that, that's not what the bastard feels."

"My apologies. He had seen her before, had met her earlier somwhere and then got the job. But he'd always wanted her. So he looked for her in other women, not daring to actually approach or hurt her."

"Jeanie Whitmore. The different attack." I said.

"Actually, I spoke to Angela about this."

My stomach twisted.

"You did?"  
"Yes, on the phone about an hour ago. When Agent Booth went in to visit you, I think."

"So what did she think?"

"She told me what you'd told her. The entire thing, your conversation with Anne, your fight with Bram. About the eyes, about how he was obsessed with the colour of their eyes." Sweets looked rather sick as he said this.

"And…?"

"I googled Jeanie Whitmore. Found her picture instantly. She was very beautiful and slightly younger than the other victims. A doctor, correct? The other women were in their late forties, she was forty-two. This is important. And her eyes were large, pretty and… totally black."

"Black." I saw the look on Bram's' face as I shouted. _"Did she fight back?" I said loudly. "What happened when Anne saw her, Frank?"_

"I think that terrified him. The black. He seemed to measure the fragility of the women by the darkness of their irises."

I felt like throwing up. Angela's eyes were almost black.

"I think she frightened him. So instead of attacking her in her element, her house, he waited until she was outside and attacked her in his element, under cover of darkness and trees. He didn't stab her, probably because when he tripped her he saw the opportunity to end his torment faster, and simply killed her. He didn't take his time like the other women. He was afraid. Maybe he heard someone approaching. No witness ever said anything about a dark figure running away from the scene, did they?"

The tears kept running down my face, but I ignored them. I didn't matter.

"No."

"I still think it's likely someone saw him. That trigger would serve as the perfect excuse to leave, to hurry the kill and flee the scene."

"But why has he changed?" I croaked.

"He got what he wanted." Sweets said simply. "He found the courage to take Margaret herself, probably because he saw her divorce from her husband as a sign, even though the reason had nothing to do with him. Kevin Stoker went to prison, so he was out of the picture, Anne Stoker became Anne Harris and got into Witness Protection, she was gone too. She fired him, but what did that mean? It was all Kevin's fault, and now Kevin was gone. So Bram saw Margaret as rightfully his. He still took his time, he killed Jeanie when Mr Stoker was already in prison, but he was steeling himself for the real thing."

"But Anne." I persisted. "Somehow Anne was with him the night Jeanie died… she lied to us when we called her, her blood somehow got on Jeanie's remains post mortem. He was always close to her. And he managed to kidnap her."

"I have a theory." Sweets said, sounding hesitant. Feeling myself completely abandoning the scientific method, I urged him on. Sweets hadn't failed so far, it was scientifically probable that he was right now as well. Psychology seemed the only way of getting answers anymore, and as long as it correlated with the forensic evidence, I was willing to accept his hypothesis.

"Tell us, Dr Sweets." Cam said.

"He became obsessed with Anne because Anne was the thing that Margaret loved most in this world. In his twisted mind he thought Margaret would never love him as she loved Anne. He both adored and despised the child for what she represented, and so wanted to control her. He also saw her as a way to get Margaret's attention."

"But the blood, Anne seeing Jeanie's corpse?" Cam was speaking for me now, as I became quieter. I was putting the puzzle together in my mind, too…

"Anne was there when Jeanie was killed. _She_ was the one who saw Bram. He told her he'd kill her mother if she said anything, maybe told her he knew her father's cellmate, that he'd get him to murder Kevin Stoker."

"But Anne said she hated her father." I murmured, almost to myself.

"That doesn't necessarily mean she meant what she said. It's likely she was protecting him, actually. And she was scared, he's a large man, maybe he hit her, cut her, and that's how the blood got on Jeanie's corpse."

I nodded. It explained all the forensic evidence.

"And after that?"

"Bram said he'd leave them alone. Anne Stoker didn't strike me as one to risk more women dying for her family's sake…

"You didn't even know her!" I said.

"Please, trust me, Dr Brennan. He stopped killing didn't he? Kept his word to Anne, and also saw this as the perfect opportunity to frame someone else: the man he hated more than anything in this world. Kevin Stoker."

So finally it all made sense.

"But why take Dr Brennan? He had who he wanted, why kidnap her?"

"She was a threat. He reacted out of fear again, lashing out to the authority she represented, she was right on his tail, she was intelligent, capable, strong-"

I didn't need my qualities listed as motives for murder. "Enough."

"Sorry. It was probably also because you reminded him of Anne. And Agent Booth provoked him. A strong male who already had everything he wanted. A figure in command."

"What about Angela?" I asked softly.

"Another strong woman who threatened him. She was the reason you survived, Dr Brennan, she's the one who found you. Angela is intelligent, capable of hunting him, hurting him. He felt fear again, threatened. He desired you, yes, but by not stabbing you, instead leaving you to either die of starvation or be saved, he clearly showed the difference between you and the other women."

"He identified them with Margaret and me with Anne?"

"Yes. I think that's why he couldn't kill you himself, actually. He left it to chance, and only realised his mistake later."

"But Angela looks nothing like Anne Stoker." Cam said.

"I know."

And at this Sweets collapsed onto another couch, looking very, very tired. His eyes shone, and I was sure he was going to cry until he said, quite levelly:

"That's why I'm afraid we may not have much time to save her."

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_**Quite a lot of psychology in this one. It even creeps ME out! And I'm the one writing about the insane killer. Sheesh, the thins floating around in my head are creepy.**_

_**Anyway, tell me your thoughts! I'll try and update ASAP, but like I said, exams, exams, exams!**_

_**So review, review, review!**_

_**I promise some Booth-Bren love in the next chap! I know this one was rather lacking in that department. ;)**_


	35. Chapter 35

_**THEY ARE OVER! My exams are over! **__**GOODBYE, I hope never to see you again! Yes, YES, YEEEEESSS!!!**_

_**Ehem.**_

_**Anyway, here's the chap **__****_

_**.**_

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**CHAPTER 3****5**

Missing Booth was harder than I'd thought. I woke up in an uncomfortable position and the nagging feeling that something was terribly wrong.  
And then it all came back. Murders, fear, death, blood, his blood on my shirt, my friend in danger. It felt like a nightmare. Like the days when I thought Booth was deceased and I kept dreaming about blood and pain and waking up soaked in my own tears, only to go to work as always.

I didn't go home to sleep, this time. After everyone had gone, Cam and I still worked. It wasn't until three that she said she was going home to clear her head and shower, and I didn't blame her. She promised to be back by eight, anyway.

I decided to sleep for a few hours in the lab around seven the next morning, something Angela and Booth wouldn't have approved. But neither of them were there to tell me I should rest, take care of myself. And I only slept because there was nothing else to do, so I thought maybe a rested mind would come up with new ideas.

It hadn't.

Cam came back at nine, apologised and got back to work. We called Sweets and he came as well. I let Hodgins have some time alone, because I knew he needed it if he was going to try and wipe that look of horror from his face.

I had one of the interns calling the hospital every ten minutes to check on Booth's progress, but taking control all by myself felt a little like… like it had before, actually. Difficult. Tiring. But worse, because now I knew what it could be like. How constructive it was to also lean on someone else. To let him help you. With Booth, everything had been… better. I couldn't think of a better way to put it.

"Have you seen Dr Hodgins?" I asked one of the best second year interns, Mitchell Smith. His class was cataloguing the anomalies of a body in Limbo and he'd been on his way to analyse a sample.

"I think he's up in the visitor's lounge, Dr Brennan."

I looked up, and saw that Hodgins was leaning on the silver railing with a look so murderous you'd think he was considering jumping off. I hoped not.

"Thank you, Mitchell."

I hurried away, in time to hear him tell Johanna Daniels "She knows my name! This is the best day ever!"

But if only. It was only a few hours long, but so far this day was turning out to be one of my worst.

"Hodgins!" I called as I climbed up the metal stairs.

"Hey Brennan. I'm sorry, do you need me?" He'd been crying, or had an eye infection. Probably the former.  
"Yes, I do." I said, hoping to raise him out of his state and help him start working again. "Let's go." I wasn't going to ask him about his feelings, his worry, the choking panic that were plain in his eyes. It was the same look I'd have if Booth were taken. Maybe Hodgins loved Angela too.

With some shock, I realised it was the same look Booth had had when _I_'d been taken. X equals A and Y equals A…

No, Temperance. Not now. I hid from my own conclusions, because now I had to find Angela. Not think of Booth, who at least would be safe and rested and...

"Dr Brennan!" It was Mitchell again, Johanna trailing after him. "Dr Brennan the hospital called saying Agent Booth evaded the nurses and is coming here!"

"_What_?"

"Apparently he told them he was fine, got dressed and left!"

"Shit." I said under my breath. "Hodgins go downstairs and tell Cam to help you prepare the evidence found in Bram's house for examination. I want to know where he could go, and I want to know _now_."

"Thank you, Dr Brennan." Hodgins said, running away.

"Mitchell!" I shouted downstairs.

"Yes?"

"Go and alert security, they are to let Agent Booth enter the building even if he doesn't have his Visitor's Badge."

"Yes, Dr Brennan."

"Johanna! Before you follow Mr Smith as you obviously can't help but doing, please fetch me some gauze, antibiotics, a sterile compress and bandages."

"Right away, Dr Brennan." She blushed very red and avoided young Mitchell's eyes as she left, but I had no time to worry I'd said something wrong again. Booth wasn't here to correct me.

Yet.

He was _about_ to get here, however, probably having reopened his wound, if he drove. Over-protective, careless, selfless dominant alpha-male! And he had the nerve to make me feel so horrible about being irresponsible and not taking care of myself! Why do people tend to give advice they never take themselves?

I stomped down the stairs and went to find Cam, who was better with flesh than I was anyway. But it was too late. I heard the commotion at the front doors and changed course last minute.

"Booth!" I was surprised at myself. The intensity with which the shout ripped out of me felt disproportionate to only having seen him a day ago. Was it a day? Suddenly the urgency to hold him, make sure he was all right, the need to touch him, tell him I loved him again, was unstoppable. I found myself running, desperate to see him again and breathe…

"Booth?"

"Bones!" His voice had a strange, panicked edge to it too.

Where had this feeling come from? Or had it already been there, had I just chosen to ignore it the entire time we'd been apart?

"Bones, where are you?"

"Agent Booth, please sit down. You don't look well…"

"Dude, she's coming this way, just hang on a second…"

"Booth!"

And there he was. Two guards and three grad students surrounded him, but no one had tried to make him stop. I halted a few feet from him, breathless. He looked… better than I'd imagined, actually. There was no blood, and maybe his face was paler than usual, but he looked otherwise healthy. I wouldn't need to dress his wound again.

"Bones?" he said, a questioning grin on his face as he invited me to come to him.

I smiled and didn't hesitate. I walked to him, letting myself choke out a laugh that hid the tears of relief, and embraced him as carefully as I could not to hurt him.

Possibly someone whistled, but that didn't seem likely.

"Are you okay?" I whispered into his ear.

With a shock of surprised, I felt him gently kiss my neck where his face was buried. What did that mean? Was that his answer? I also felt the sharp intake of air as he smelled me.

Oh dear, this was doing bad things to my concentration. The primal, manly way he…

Enough! He was okay, which meant it was time to pay for what he'd done.

I pushed myself away, ready to punish him.

"Booth, what are you doing here?"

The people surrounding us were quick to leave, possibly having recognised my tone.

"I came to help. And to see you."

I ignored the strange cluster of nerves in my stomach (stomach contents are acid and devoid of neuron activity) as he said the last sentence. The fact that he hadn't looked away from my eyes yet was even worse.

"You can't help with this investigation, Booth! You are injured. Get back to the hospital."

I took a step further away, the cool lab air also clearing my thoughts and sharpening the severity of my tongue.

"Bones, I need to help."

"Need? No, you need to get better. You can't help here, Booth."

"Is Angela gone?" He didn't move from his spot, try to come to me. I suppose he sensed (in that annoying perceptive way of his) what would happen if he tried.

"Yes." I said flatly. And with him here, our chances of finding her would not improve unless he was fully functional, which he wasn't. His health was absolutely vital to… me.

"Now go."

I pointed to the door with finality, and hoped he didn't notice how my finger shook slightly with the effort of making him leave seconds after seeing him. I knew it would hurt his feelings, but his feelings weren't rational right now.

"Bones, all I have to do at the hospital is rest. I can rest here while helping."

"What about the morphine drip?"

"I can take the pain, Bones, it's not as severe an injury as it looks."

"Someone shot you!" I practically shouted.

"In the arm. Bullet grazed the muscle, lots of blood and fuss, a week's recovery time." He still hadn't moved an inch. He was trying to convince me the rational way. Not by using his charm-smile, not by pleading, but by constructively presenting his arguments.

"But it's not rational…! It's been a _day_!"

"I want to find her, Bones." The emotion made his voice shake, like my outstretched arm. "Angela was…"

"Is." I said sharply.

"I need to find her too. I'll help you. This is about all of us."

"You…" I took a deep breath, hoping that oxygen would somehow give me strength. "… you don't belong with us until you are well. Go."

"No, Bones. Just understand that and let's go find our friend."

I looked into his eyes, thinking two things at once: one, never had I been able to discern feelings by simply taking in someone's expression, and two, Booth was the exception to that rule, making it null and void, and not a rule at all.

And I knew he wasn't going back to that hospital.

"Fine. You can stay if you lay down on the couch. No walking, or moving, or… nothing. Understand?"

He grinned.

"Got it. Does this mean I get to watch you from a vantage position the entire time?"

I let out a sort of giggle.

"Funny. Very funny, Booth."

He took a step toward me, so that we were face to face, inches apart.

Suddenly I was aware of the amount of sidelong glances we were subject to. People pretending to do other things while really attempting to surreptitiously watch us. I was aware of many things as he leant down until our noses touched, then our lips, and he kissed me right in front of everyone at the Jeffersonian.

None of them mattered.

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_**I know it's kind of short, but I've done my best! ;)**_

_**Missed your comments during my periods of stress: make it up to me pretty please with a sugary cherry on top?**_

_**Love ya!**_


	36. Chapter 36

_**Here it is! **__****_

_**I just have to say th**__**at the comments have been superextra adorable this time round (mainly due to my exam-induced absence for a few days) and that I love ya'll!!!**_

_**Marnie, smee, Madisme, Emily and everybody else who I couldn't reply to (please get an account so I can reply! Your words really mean a lot to me!) and all the newcomers (there seem to be so many lately) who claim they read 35 chaps of fic in one day: CONGRATS, YOU RTW!!!**_

_**Here it is.**_

_***takes deep breath and quietly runs away***_

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**CHAPTER 36**

We sat together. In times of great stress or trial, humanity has always shown that unity is the only way to survive. Time after time, everywhere around the world, I have learnt this about us: we've proven that we turn to one another because we cannot bear to be alone.

So now we sat together, in her office, a reminder with four walls. Hodgins sat on the couch, murdering the floor, and Cam stood next to him, she didn't like sitting still.

Sweets had surprisingly chosen her chair, where she sat and told us why, how or who had been murdered. He was shifting uncomfortably, unable to decide whether he should try and switch the computer on.

Booth was also sitting on a sofa, because I'd made him. He looked tired but determined, and as alert as any of us.

And me…?

I stood in the middle, issuing instructions, commands, questioning, bouncing theories off of every person in the room, encouraging ideas. I had taken control with decision, and it was time to do what we did best.

"Hodgins, I need you on this. Go and organise the contents of Bram's apartment by priority significance. The only criteria is to be possible locations where he'd take Angela. Remember, relevance."

In a swift motion, Hodgins left, not without looking at me in silent thanks. I nodded, feeling terribly sorry for him. It wasn't a feeling that would help get Angela, but he really did love her. That was obvious… even to me.

"Sweets, I know you're not an expert, but if you could listen to the recording we have from Angela's phone call, that would be helpful. Not just your psychological opinion, anything you hear that's out of the ordinary and can help us narrow the area where Bram could be, any insight at all…"

"What about me?" Cam said sharply.

"Using Angela's computer, I'd like you to try calculate the approximate extent of the area we should search. It's a half hour radius from the hospital. You're intelligent, Dr Saroyan, and you've worked in the city before, as a cop. Please. I know it's not your field of expertise, but try. He's a gardener… he doesn't have high income but he owns a house…" I stopped. My mind rang with the words. "He's a _gardener_…"

I reeled with shock at a sudden, insane idea which took hold of me.

A week ago I asked Hodgins about the hairs Bram had sent us, and he replied: _"There's pollen from four different plants at least, none of which are usually found in similar regions…"_

Anne Stoker looked frightened and strong and said. _"__If he leaves, I'm locked inside the cellar with a bottle of water, and I can scream my lungs out but he doesn't care. I never know where he keeps my mom. I never see her."_

I realised her slip_. "You said cellar? We're in a house, then." _And she flinched…

Booth burst into my nightmare room, bringing with him the light and the sound, and life… and framing him, a brown-green canopy of unkempt lawn hinted at a tiny garden without any well-nurtured plants…

I was back on the lab, demanding facts from Hodgins and he said "_Also, Bram doesn't own any other property than his house, which isn't exactly a mansion…"_

Where had the pollen come from, if it wasn't from his own garden? He didn't work anymore, obviously since Margaret Stoker fired him he'd been unemployed. So how…?

How to confirm my hypothesis? How to turn it into a truth? My body shook with the realisation: maybe I'd just realised where Frank Bram could be… or at least, a way to find out where he was.

"I'm on it, Brennan." Cam shoved Sweets away and turned the computer on, bringing me back from my thoughts with a slap.

"Bones, I'm going with Hodgins." Booth said, standing from the couch. "He needs someone who's not a scientist to check the criteria, and… he needs someone."

"Thank you, Booth."

Before he left the room, he paused by my side and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. I closed my eyes, to retain the momentary peace, like a balming coolness, his touch brought. But then he drew away and walked over to the platform, to help Hodgins.

"What will you do, Brennan?" Cam asked.

"I'm going to call the FBI, and then I'm going to interrogate Kevin Stoker's killer."

"By yourself?" Sweets asked.

"Booth is in no condition to perform his usual duties, and if I have to I'll ask Agent Keller to help me I will. But if I have to punch the truth out of Bram's friend, I'll do that too." I said coldly.

"Okay. I'll call you with constant updates." Cam said.

"Thank you, Cam."

So I left, not quick enough that I didn't hear the speakers turn on, a rush of static, and then it started all over again, after four rings of the phone:

"_Help!" __Angela said, her voice strained. "I don't know where I am but it's quiet and-"_

I took out my cell phone as I strode out of the Jeffersonian. For a moment, after the main automatic doors slid open, I turned to see Hodgins and Booth on the platform. My partner was looking at something Hodgins pointed on the computer screen, then pointing at the items on the exam tables: clothes, bags, a lamp, among many other things. Booth didn't see me watching him, he was busy nodding his agreement and supporting my friend. Suddenly I was gripped with another image, a very visual, very clear image. In an instant I saw it, and then it was gone.

I stood on a thin line, like a cord, and I ran, ignoring gravity and the fact that it was quite possible for me to fall. I couldn't see the ground, and I couldn't feel the sky, I only looked forward. Booth ran behind me, his hand clasped in mine, not struggling to keep up at all, instead easily matching my pace. We didn't look at each other, because we already knew perfectly well that we counted on the other to survive.

We just ran.

Not from anything.

And then the real Booth caught my eye. The doors began sliding shut behind me and I didn't try and stop them, I didn't walk to him again, because that would just make it harder for me to leave. He trusted me, and gave me a small nod of encouragement and support right before the doors closed. I realised that he would be fine, here.

And that he knew exactly why I'd lied to Cam and Sweets, and where I was really going.

I dialled the number.

"Hi, my name is Dr Temperance Brennan, I work for Jeffersonian Institution… yes, I need to speak to Special Agent Keller, immediately. Of course I should be in your records. Yes, I'll hold, thank you. Agent Keller? I need a favour… yes, I know I'm not involved in the investigation anymore… just listen to me, my friend has been taken captive and… of course we informed the FBI, Dr Camille Saroyan called you minutes ago…! See? Okay, I need you to interrogate Kevin Stoker's killer, Mr Bram's friend. Because he might know possible locations where Mr Bram could have taken Angela Montenegro. Yes, I know there's already a special unit in charge or the investigation… please, Agent Keller. Please, at least supervise his questioning. Because I believe you are very good at what you do, and I don't trust anyone else to do it…. Agent Booth is in hospital. I'm not lying."

I hung up and ran to my car.

I wasn't going to interrogate that killer. I wasn't very good at that sort of thing, and I knew when I was being unhelpful.

So where was I going, you might wonder?

"Hello, this is Dr Temperance Brennan with the Jeffersonian institute. Yes, I know, I'd just like to inform you that I'm coming to visit one of your inmates for a very, very important matter. It concerns the FBI Agent this man shot. I am his partner, and I am participating in the investigation regarding the motive for the shooting. Phillip Black, exactly. It's urgent, as I'm sure the Bureau has already specified. No? Well, I'll be here in fifteen minutes and it's incredibly important that I speak to him. I believe visiting hours are in forty-five minutes? Yes, well this is an emergency. Agent Keller must be about to call, then. Any minute, yes. Thank you. No. Because I'm married. Goodbye."

I'd just told four lies in one minute, and didn't feel one hint of regret.

I stepped on the accelerator and drove away.

*

My fingernails tapped on the cool flat surface. I'd been in the Washington DC Penitentiary Visitor's wing before, to see my father and Russ. The glass gave me a somewhat distorted translucent reflection of my face. I looked pale, tired, and surprisingly thin. My cheekbones had become more prominent because of the reduction in the amount of tissue of my risorius and the zygomaticus major facial muscles. My eyes looked, as a result, larger. My hair was curled slightly on the edges, because I hadn't dried it properly after my shower. I looked like a ghost, but a live one. Not that the paradox makes any sense.

"Dr Brennan." A horrible, muffled sneer announced Phillip Black, the security guard who'd shot Booth, followed by two prison guards. Both of them stared at me like I was a rare extinct animal.

I took the phone at my right and waited for Black to take his. "Why are you here, bitch? Did he die?" he said immediately.

"You missed, idiot. I just wish your life depended on your aim."

"Then why are you here, lady scientist? Unless it's just for small talk."

I took a deep, determined breath.

"Frank Bram asked you to shoot my partner. I don't care why you did it, or how he got you to do it knowing you'd get caught. I really don't. But you had a job. You had a life, a future. Now you have nothing, you'll be in here for at least attempted murder, and that's a very long time. That means something. You're the only person Bram convinced to do something as radical as this. Kevin Stoker's cellmate was already in jail. Sure, Frank got other people to lie, but this… to _kill_ for him?"

As I spoke, Black looked more and more nervous.

"To actually murder someone for him…? That means something. A bond. Some kind of friendship. I… I _hate_ psychology, but this has to be the sign, right? This is like emotional proof. _It means something_. Do you want to know what it means?" I said, leaning closer to the glass until my uneven, strained breathing fogged a small space the radius of a small coin.

"What?" he croaked, caught, completely caught in my voice.

"It means you are the only person who might know where he is."

But then it broke. He laughed. He actually had the never to throw back his head like a cartoon and laugh in my face.

"I want to know where Bram is, Phillip!" I said.

"Listen honey, I don't see any incentive from you to tell the truth. Hell, to say a single word."

"He's not at his apartment." My fingers were white against the phone I was clutching to my ear. "Where would he go? There are no other places registered in his name, he doesn't own anything…"

"I said, I have no reason to answer any of your questions, lady scientist."

"He doesn't own anything, right? Just a house? He has no other property?" I repeated. The conclusion I'd come to in the lab began to take shape. I'd been right to come here. Black _did_ know. He was the confirmation I needed, the final proof.

He stared at me as I thought furiously, cataloguing the evidence in my mind to make sure, again, that I was right, that it fir, and he didn't answer my question, but for once that meant something. Booth had said a long time ago than no answer usually meant 'yes'. I hadn't appreciated his use of the word usually, because it was uncertain and there could always be exceptions. But this time, I realised, Black's answer was clear.

"He's a gardener, but he lives in a house with a tiny garden. He has to keep plants. Right?" I said, my voice shaking as the emotion took control of my vocal chords.

Black hung up the phone.

"Where?" I shouted. "Where, Black!"

He didn't tell me. Really, I only saw him mouth the words through the thick glass. But I knew what he meant, even as I came to that conclusion myself.

"_Where do you keep plants__, lady scientist?"_

Frank Bram had to own a greenhouse.

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_**People, it's coming to the climax. Brace yourselves, it's explosive (not literally, of course). I'm so happy I've shared this story with you all!!!**_

_**I think you know me well enough by now to know I'll ask for a review. So I totally won't, since you know me so well! ;)**_


	37. Chapter 37

_**Sorry for the delay**__**! Personal stuff… um, anyway, enjoy!! This is extra-long!! **__****_

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**CHAPTER 37**

_Frank Bram had to own a greenhouse._

That was the only place where different species of plants could converge, it was the only place where he could rent a few isles without having to actually buy the entire structure (and leave the glaring paper trail).

I needed to tell Booth. To call the Jeffersonian, to talk to the police.

The cell phone was in my hand and I was walking to my car when it vibrated. I almost dropped it in surprise; I'd been about to dial Booth's number.

"Hello?" Maybe it was him, I could explain…

"_Hey, Dr Brennan. Long time no see."_

I stopped walking, feeling my strength and resolve crumple slightly as my legs shook, and I thought I would faint right in the middle of the parking lot. A horrible wave of nausea assaulted me.

"Where is Angela?" I managed to say.

"_With me, Dr Brennan. But I want you to know something…__"_

"What?"

"_I want you to stop looking for me. I told you to stop looking for me. I warned you, but you didn't listen. Remember when I said that? I said I'd really regret not killing you."_

"I remember." My voice was a whisper, so low I didn't think he heard me.

"_Well Angela here is growing restless. It's really upsetting poor Anne."_

"Where are you?" I burst out.

"_I can't tell __you that. We're safe, together. But like I said… if you make me regret not killing you, I might have to kill her to get to you, right?"_

I couldn't speak.

"_Would it work? Would you come and see me if I said I'd hurt her otherwise?"  
_But now I could find him. He was going to ruin this, now that I finally had a chance to win.

"Frank, please just tell me where you…"

"_Le__ave us alone!"_

And he hung up.

I didn't waste time standing there in shock. I was in motion seconds after the line went dead. I had to call Booth, I had to talk to the team and tell them what I knew. The car took a couple of attempts to start, because I think I jammed my keys in the ignition a little too roughly, or maybe I was just shaking.

The phone rang again, this time scaring me so badly I actually let a little cry of surprise escape me.

"Hello?" I gasped.

"_Bones! Were you right? Did Black tell you?"_

"Yes. Bram would need permits, they should be in his apartment, tell Hodgins to…"

"_No permits, he either took them or burned them."_

"Okay, then tell Hodgins to re-examine the pollen in the hairs Bram sent us and tell me what greenhouse has those plants. Then ask Cam to compare that data against the area we've already specified. Bram has been there since a quarter to six yesterday, approximately, because Hodgins called Angela at six and she was already tied up. A whole day without being thrown out? That's strange, right? Ask Sweets to-"

"_Why can't you tell them?"_

"Aren't you at the Jeffersonian?"

There was a suspiciously guilty pause.

"Booth? Are you driving?"

"_No_." I realised I could hear the traffic as a distant background noise.  
"Dammit, Booth, I told you, you could stay as long as you-"

"_Bones, we don't have time for this. Where are you?"_

"On my way here, I _said_…"

"_Where specifically? I was… I was coming your way. Well, to see that you got out of jail okay, actually, and that you managed to confirm our suspicion…"_

My heart seemed to skip a beat.

"We can meet halfway, then. I'm going to call Cam now. We'll have to notify the FBI team in charge of the actual investigation."

"_Yeah_." He told me where he was and I realised that in two minutes I'd reach him. It was a mall I often visited. It was strange to think that we'd meet and possibly decide how we would rescue my best friend from a mad killer… in a mall.

"_Don't talk and drive at the same time, Bones."_

"Says the man with a gunshot wound to his arm who escaped from hospital."

He chuckled. "_Says the woman with two broken fingers who insists on giving health tips_."

I'd honestly forgotten they were broken.

Honestly.  
"_See you in a couple of minutes, Bones_."

"Yeah."

I hung up and immediately dialled Cam's number. She picked it up on the third ring.  
"Cam! I need you to help me, the entire team. Here's what I want you to do…" I told them everything I'd told Booth, with fast precision (and never letting my eyes stray from the road). They had all the data they needed, all that was left was putting the system together and solving a large and complicated equation with many, many variables. But it was a compatible system, and my team was very good.

*

Booth was already waiting by the time I arrived, leaning against his large black SUV and looking tired. The lights coming from the mall threw shadows on the parking lot, making my partner's face more angular and sharp, his eyes more mysterious.

I quickly parked and got out of the car.

"They'll call me any second with the results." I said without preamble.

He turned to look at me quickly, then sighed, like seeing me was a relief to him. I pushed back any more thoughts about us. Now wasn't the time.

The only problem was that smothering something so huge was beginning to feel like putting out a fire with a single tissue.

"Okay. So we wait?" his voice was strained with nerves and worry. And… pain?

"Did you hurt your arm?" I said, moving closer to examine him.

"No." He pushed back defensively. I rolled my eyes.

"People say I'm a bad liar." I said, stepping right into his face and gently but firmly grabbing his hand.

"You are." He croaked, his gaze caught in mine, for once at my mercy. Our noses brushed lightly and he shivered. I hoped he wasn't cold. "Worse than me." He smiled lazily, and I didn't answer, but chose to remove his jacket, ignoring his searching eyes.

There was blood, I saw instantly.

"Dammit, Booth. I warned you. I told you what would happen and you-"

"… did it anyway, of course. A bit of pain is worth saving Angela. You would have done the same, Bones, don't lie."

"I won't." I carefully drew away from him and put my cell phone on the hood of his car, so that we'd hear it clearly when it rang. Then I went back to my car and took out my computer, so the team could send me images to backup their conclusions. I put it next to my phone and turned it on. Now that we had no time, we couldn't afford mistakes.

"Bones…" Booth had removed his shirt.

Ah.

Well, it could have been worse. I fought to remain as clinical as possible when I examined his wound, which had reopened (and which was no surprise). He didn't complain, not once, or flinch when I slowly lifted his arm to look at the stitches. I could see the hard muscles in his stomach tense and contract whenever I hurt him, and this was sign enough. His jaw was clenched, and that was a sign too.

"The wound has been reopened." I stated flatly.

"Yeah, I know."

"But the bleed had stopped for now, and the stitches are holding. You should go back to the hospital anyway, just to get a clean bandage…"

"Tomorrow."

I'd known he'd say that.

"Why aren't they calling, Bones?"

"That means they're still looking. They'll find her. Them. They'll find them. You know our squints can do it."

Booth laughed.

"What?" I said, although I knew why he'd laughed and I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"You said 'our squints'."

"I know." I was only mildly annoyed. Seeing him laugh in the midst of all this was like a breath of fresh air.

"I love that."

I rolled my eyes, and went to lean against the car next to him. To wait.

But…

"Wait, Bones."

His tone had changed. His body had changed. I could tell because of the tense way his jaw had slightly clenched again. The strong rectus abdominus and pectoral muscles of his chest and stomach were contracted, and his eyes glittered with anticipation. He looked godlike. Or more accurately… devil-like.

He put his good arm around me and pulled me close to him. Not much closer, because we'd already been too close, but so that he could kiss me.  
At first, his touch was gentle and soft, delicious, exhilarating. It wasn't a breath of fresh air, it was a breath of air, just _some_ air amidst choking, suffocating fear. His hand was massaging my head and making me lose reason, and his strong bare chest felt so good and I let my nails dig into it…

We never could be very innocent, could we? We weren't good at tame. Soon, my breath came in gasps and I was finding it more difficult not to press my body harder against his, even though I wanted to be careful with his wound. His hips kept shifting forward, and I felt the pressure of his arousal against me, strong and bold. The feverish desire to say 'I love you' again took me by surprise, as he kissed me furiously, deeply, fantastically…

Then he spun me around and slammed me against the car, putting his good arm on the body of the SUV to steady himself. He towered over me in all his glory: predatory, masculine, alpha-male. I felt like my legs would collapse from aching so bad for him. I felt weak and erotically protected by him. Yet in danger from him at the same time.

So for revenge I yanked his face back down to mine by immersing both hands in his hair and pulling. And couldn't help but let my leg slowly ride up his, until he groaned and panted:

"You have to stop that. Or I'll take you right here."

I wanted him to take me. Right here. Right now. But of course we couldn't, even though, for the first time, I knew we both wanted to.

I shifted us back again, shoving him and pressing my hips against him, to teach him a lesson.

"No more slamming for you, Agent Booth, not with a bad arm." I chastised. His eyes gleamed.

"Oh baby, if you talk like that I'll…" I cut him off with a kiss to his jaw, then a lick to his earlobe.  
"You'll what? I said no misbehaving. So do as I say."

"Yeah. Whatever you say. Anything." He panted, back arching and hips involuntarily shifting forward again. I lost my point completely, and my head lolled back with pleasure as his hardness brushed my thighs. Crazy, insane pleasure that he stared at me in total abandon, mouth half open in the look I now knew and recognised. And loved.

"Bones, you have no idea how much I wish I could-"

"Shh. We should really stop."

"I wish you'd _stop_ saying that."

But he chuckled and into my neck and his hot breath tickled me.

"It's funny how I'm always the one who says it." I said reprovingly.

"Yeah. Eh, sorry about that. My self-control just crumbles when it comes to you." He grinned like a naughty child caught doing something wrong.

I slowly drew back, smiling, and checked my phone. But we hadn't missed anything, there were no calls. Waiting nervously wasn't good for 'stopping'. Not good at all. I could see the places where I'd dug my fingers into his flesh, and worse than that, I could see the wonderful, powerful body which made my partner a strong, large man. Including those broad shoulders that made me feel small.

And his pants.

Oh boy.

"I'm going to the toilet for a second." He said with raised eyebrows, putting on his shirt.

"Okay." I answered immediately, avoiding his gaze, even though I knew there was humour in his eyes. I was never, ever shy when it came to talk about sex, or masturbation, but when it came to Booth…

Oh boy.

"It's not something I do often." He added meekly.

"Okay."

There was a tense silence during which I figuratively perforated the gravel beneath my feet with just a look. And then…

"I'll be thinking about you while I do it." He growled. My head snapped up but he'd turned around and was fleeing the scene. I fell back against the car like someone had knocked the breath out of me.

Was I not allowed the same release? But someone had to stay with the phone and the computer. He was going to get punished for this some time… later.

I just stood there, using the SUV for support, breathing deeply and sobering up (I hadn't ingested alcohol, but Booth could often act like a drug). And then it happened, of course.  
"Cam?" I answered shakily.

"_Yes, Dr Brennan. Put us on speakerphone and turn on your computer."_

I frantically pressed speaker and left my phone next to the computer. "It's already on." I said. "Talk to me, tell me what you know."

"_Here's the thing_." It was Hodgins. "_We narrowed it down to three places that had hydrangea, chicory and nymphanea caerulea."_

I wanted to throw up. "Those flowers are all blue…" I groaned, feeling my stomach tighten.

"_None of them are in the area Bram could have gotten to_."

"What?" I said, and my voice broke. "Are you sure…?"

"_Open the next e-mail, I'm sending you a map_."

I did, and saw it in my inbox. I realised what Hodgins had meant instantly. The closest possible greenhouse was an hour long drive away.

I couldn't believe it. I'd been wrong. I'd been fooled at lied to and… wrong…

"No." I said, resolve strengthening. "I wasn't wrong. It makes perfect sense, and it's the only viable explanation. We eliminated every other possibility, and this data doesn't contradict our conclusion."  
_"What do you mean…?"_ Sweets sounded further away than the other two. "_Dr Brennan it's obvious Bram couldn't have gotten to a greenhouse on time…"_

"It's there. It has to be there."

"_It's not, Brennan_!" Hodgins said.

"_Wait_…" Cam was saying. "_Just a second. What's that_?"

"_Oh my God_…" Sweets said.

"What's what?" I shouted. "What?" there was a gasp on the other line and I slammed my palm into the hood, making a loud banging noise. "What's happening?"

"_We found it! We got it! It's closed down, that's why their website wasn't active anymore and we didn't find it_ _before_!" Cam yelled.

"Where?"

"_I'm on that_!" Hodgins said, sounding alive for the first time today.

"_They had a problem with the gas tanks, and the place nearly blew up two years ago._" Cam explained while I heard furious typing in the background. _"That's the reason he's been able to keep them overnight. There's no one there. He probably planned to go to the greenhouse beforehand, in case he had to leave his place. I'll bet you anything he keeps his plants there, illegally of course, and that's where he works, how we found the pollen. Well, not _work_ works but you know, spends his days there…"_

"_Got it!"_ Hodgins shouted, his voice shaking with emotion. Hope. Hope was bringing my friend back.

"Where, Hodgins?"

Booth was sprinting toward me.

I turned to look at the screen and see where Hodgins meant.

A red dot indicated the place where my friend was being held against her will.

I turned to see my partner, almost by my side, dried blood still on his shirt.

My head slowly went back to the screen, the weight of what I saw there settling on my shoulders.

Hodgins was speaking fast, worried sentences and Cam was shouting.

Sweets tried to stop them, to talk sense into me.

But I didn't listen. I didn't even hear.

I looked at Booth and our gazes locked.

"Booth." I said, my voice shaking. "We're two blocks away. Let's go."

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_**That's right baby!**_

_**It was extra-long to make up for the fact that it was extra-late. But did you like? I threw some smuff in there… sorta. **_

_**What do you think, smuff of fluff?**_

_**Or both?**_

_**I'll tell you my preference in the next chap! ;)**_


	38. Chapter 38

_**Hey everyone!!! **__**This took a bit longer, but I've been in Prague for the past two weeks! It's beautiful and amazing! Unfortunately, it's also far, far away from my computer which I wasn't allowed to take! : ( So, no writing for me. Or you. Heh, sorry!**_

_**Here it is. I'm not posting an author's note at the end (even though I do in every single story/chap) asking to review, or just distracting. I'll try and post the next ASAP, because they are kind of a Part One – Part Two deal.**_

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**CHAPTER 37**

"_Booth." I said, my voice shaking. "We're two blocks away. Let's go."_

And suddenly the jumble of words coming through the speaker on my phone were loud and overlapped, but quite clear.

Hodgins was telling us the best route to get there. "Just drive straight for a minute and turn left, the area looks deserted but look hard and you should find the place…"

Cam was trying to shout over him, offering advice. "After you've called SWAT, remember to give Brennan a gun and enter as cautiously as possible, leave the car a distance behind so he won't hear you coming, use the cover of darkness as effectively as you can…"

And finally, Sweets was frantically attempting to smother the other two, urging us not to go in alone and wait for the FBI. "No! No! Dr Brennan think rationally here! The best course of action for the least damaging outcome! It's perfectly all right for you to wait for trained professionals who will do the job better…!"

Booth and I just looked at each other, knowing we weren't going to wait. "Cam." Booth snapped, stopping everyone mid-sentence. "Call Agent Keller and inform him of the location, get the team there ASAP. Tell them… Special Agent Booth plus civilian Dr Brennan are engaging first, possible contact."

And before anyone could start shouting again, he switched off my phone.

"Possible?" I asked as we both moved at the same time. He got inside his SUV and I snapped my computer shut. "You made it sound like we're only going there first to assess the situation and then waiting for SWAT. We're not going to do that."

I threw my expensive, valuable equipment into the back seat.

"We'll try and do that as long as no one is in any pain." Booth was gripping the wheel like he could snap it.

"Any physical pain, you mean."

He started the car and we sped away, leaving my car in the mall parking lot. "Bones, when we get there I'm going to analyse the situation and decide what our best course of action is. I'd like to try following protocol and doing things right. Just this once, please, let me…"

"Doing things right is _wrong_! In this instance, protocol dictates we stand back and do nothing! I'm not going to wait for ten minutes watching Angela tied to a… watching her be in danger…!"

"Bones. Ten minutes could mean we get everybody out safe. There's no reason to believe Bram is unarmed. It's very, very likely that he has guns by now, to subdue his _three_ kidnap victims. Angela might not be in immediate danger…"

I couldn't stand it. I remembered the phone call I'd received today with crystal clarity and felt myself explode.

"He called me!"

Booth whipped his head around in shock. The car swerved and he went back to the road, but I knew I'd finally gotten through to him.

"He said he'd kill her! He was just preparing himself because she scares him, but he'll do it, Booth! It's our only chance, we have to go in immediately!"

As I spoke, we passed buildings in a flash, leaving the city in favour of the darker outskirts. In seconds we should be able to see Green Life greenhouse.

"Okay. Okay, then take the gun on my hip."

He didn't look at me as he said it, but I knew he was just trying to concentrate on the road.

"Okay."

I slowly reached out and put my hand around the cold, metal instrument. It was nestled over Booth's thigh. I took it out of it's sheath and felt the weight of death as I let it settle in my hands. If I had to, I knew I could use it. I'd done it before. I could kill Frank Bram, if I had to. To save Angela. Margaret. Anne.

To save them. I'd shot two people before, to save Booth, so if I had to…

"We're almost here."

Booth stopped the car immediately and swiftly got out. I followed him, gun at the ready. I couldn't see a thing because he'd turned off the headlights, to make out arrival completely inconspicuous. We weren't that close, maybe a minute away, so that the sound of our car would be masked as well. So we'd have to walk a little. I calculated all this, taking in Booth's precautions and trusting him in this situation completely.

Darkness made Booth become nothing more than a comforting shadow. Comforting because I knew he was there.

"Bones…" he whispered, walking to me, also holding his gun. "I know there's no point in asking you to stay. There's also no time for big speeches or goodbyes, there's just no time. My son… I hate that I may not have been able to say goodbye to my son."

Suddenly I felt him move, quickly shortening the distance between us in two strides. He didn't make a sound, like an agile panther, but I felt him breathing, felt his body against mine. A shard of pain that this could end, that he was going to be in danger, irrationally shook me to the core. He'd confessed to feeling the same way about me, to wanting to protect me, and I'd always snorted and belittled his concerns, trivial in the face of larger danger, inconsequential compared to other people we might be helping.

But that was _my_ life. When _I_ was in danger. I chose this moment, this frantic, silent moment in the dark to realise he was in danger too, he wasn't invincible, he wasn't indestructible, and _his_ life _was_ consequential, it was important, it was precious…

We'd never had much time to consider the dangers before barging into a dangerous situation, knowing loved ones were in danger, knowing we were unprotected: no bullet-proof vests, two guns without recharge, in the killer's environment… I knew he didn't have any bullet-proof vests today because he'd been in hospital, and then at the Jeffersonian, and had no time to stop at the FBI. He'd come to check on me before he did anything else, and now we were stranded here until help came along without safety, without certainty or even _light_…

His face was touching mine, in the darkness he was the only real thing in my world. His skin was soft and rough, his cheek brushed my temple and I didn't know which direction we had to walk toward, I didn't even know which way was up or down, or how we would make it anywhere.

"There is no time for me to say what I should say. I guess I always thought it was so damn obvious that it hardly even needed to be said. I didn't understand your reactions, the way you acted like you did, because I thought you already knew."

Suddenly he pulled away. Five seconds was all the time he was willing to spend telling me things, waiting for SWAT. He took my hand and pulled me forward, in the direction of a faint light. We were practically running, holding hands and easily keeping a steady pace.

As we got closer I did see some light, shining on a few trees around an impossibly large translucid structure, shaped like half a cylinder. We'd come to the right place. I knew this.

"I thought you already knew and didn't feel the same way, which was why you never…" I almost stumbled, but regained my footing and didn't falter. He began speaking abruptly, in short sentences, strained, but I knew it wasn't from lack of oxygen, it was just difficult for him to say. "I told you things. Hinted at things. But you never reacted, never… so I stopped telling you things. Asking for things. Admitting more things. I tried to stop. I kind of succeeded."

We slowed to walking because now we were closer, and I couldn't speak, but I didn't need to. He held my hand firmly. I wasn't trembling, not outwardly.

"I became a horrible, mean, sexist jerk as an after effect of it, especially to you, but I stopped hinting at anything. I kept it all inside and turned a feeling into anger. Until that day when I couldn't take it anymore. You have no idea… how… incredibly exhausting it is. How draining, staying angry at you. It was one of the hardest things I've ever done."

He was telling me all this because he thought we might die. And he didn't look at me and I didn't look at him. We were both looking ahead, trying to see shapes inside the structure, trying to walk faster without being obvious.

"And I'll never be able to say I'm sorry enough. Not enough, because repetition renders those words useless, nor with enough strength, because no matter how deeply sorry I am, it doesn't change my attitude toward you, it doesn't change what I did. I hope that you've forgiven me, I think you have. But I won't deserve that forgiveness for a while."

Of course I'd forgiven him. _As he was doing it_ I was forgiving him.

"And then, once I knew… once we'd… since the car, I knew you liked being with me too, even if it wasn't the same way. I knew how you felt and you tasted, adding that to how incredible you were… it was so much harder. I couldn't be angry anymore, so I was selfish. I taunted and got you to kiss me again. I let you take the burden of stopping before it went too far because I thought you didn't feel the same way, and so it was easier for you."

I love you. I love you, Booth. I thought the words but still my voice wouldn't come. I love you.

I knew this. I'd known this for a very long time.

I wanted to whisper it to him before we went inside, but our pace was fast and I didn't matter, I'd never matter, not until the case was over. Only _they_ mattered, and it wasn't over yet.

I could see Booth's face clearly now in the light, but still I didn't look. I kept my eyes straight ahead and kept trying to discern shadows in the white glow of the greenhouse. A dirty sign cheerfully proclaimed it to be Green Life Greenhouse.

"For all of it I should say I'm sorry. But we have no time."

We couldn't stop. I couldn't speak. We couldn't afford the time it would take to say important things.

"Temperance, all I can-"

A gunshot.

A scream.

He wrenched his hand from mine and sprinted away, flat out, without waiting for me or looking back. My reflexes weren't as quick or well-practiced as his, so I didn't react with the same burst of speed. But I was just as fast as Booth, so I quickened my pace until my legs screamed in pain and I caught up to him.

I remembered what he'd said to me that day, such a long time ago: _"Invisible. Like you're not there, get it? I… I'm not going to look at you, okay? But remember: I won't forget you're there. I'd never forget, but for her, for Mrs Stoker I need to be focused, okay? I can't be looking at you. I'm sorry." _Now was different, he was running to get there first, to save them before it was too late, and I had momentarily slowed him down. I felt my heart figuratively expand with pride (emotions cannot directly change body tissue so quickly without changes in one's metabolism).

There were no more sounds, no more gunshots or screams (oh God had it been Angela?), no sound even from Booth who ran next to me with the night as though he was a ghostly apparition. One with the shadows.

We reached the side of the structure quickly. There was no way of looking in because a thin but opaque white sheet covered the entire greenhouse; hence the muted light. Probably put there after it was closed down, but no padlock of fences to guard the place. Careless… and really, what could you take from a place filled with dead plants? Except they weren't dead anymore, Hodgins had discovered that.

How would we sneak inside without making our presence known? Cam helped up to here, and it seemed like out presence hadn't been noted. I had the most irrational thought: the loud sound of my heartbeat would give us away. My pulse, thundering through my body in a frenzy of adrenalin and fear, terror… but Sweets would say that was impossible, remind of the ration woman that I was and attempt to calm me down. I followed his imagined advice and took a deep, if rather shaky, breath.

Angela would smile and be proud that I managed all of this letting my friends help me.

"Booth…" I whispered, trying to just mouth the words as quietly as possible. "How do we get in?"

"Follow me."

He took off to the left, following the outline and crouching low. "At least we know this: Bram has just confirmed he has guns." He said to me behind his back.

I nodded, I'd thought of that too.

He kept running, and I faithfully tried to copy his every step, and not make a noise. To be objective, it was an impressive first attempt and I was generally very good with physical skills, but Booth was my clear superior in this area. Not that I would ever admit that to him.

"Here." He mouthed, pointing to a vertical slit in the material that started at two metres high and came down all the way to the ground.

I stepped and leaned as close as I dared, to try and see something. Behind the opaque white sheet I saw the hard transparent plastic that made up the actual structure, shot through with metal beams curving as it reached higher, to keep it solid. My breath was heavy and my heart rate abnormally high as I realised all that stood between me and Frank Bram was cheap, see-through plastic.

It was a very thin slit, and I could barely discern anything inside the actual building. All I saw were green plants, with small green leaves and blue flecks of colour in clusters. A closer examination showed those flecks to be blue flowers, tiny little petals open to a non-existent sun. The blue made bile rise in my throat. It was disgusting, he was sick, sick and insane, and he should be dead for doing those things to innocent women…

A hand on my shoulder steadied me. Booth knew what I was thinking. I took a deep breath and looked again, but the green life completely obscured any vision. We couldn't see further than a foot inside.

Booth gently tugged me away and tried to look, also without touching the white sheet.

The night was eerily quiet. Shouldn't we be hearing police cars by now? Cam would have called the FBI moments after we hung up, and it had taken us two, maybe three minutes to get here by car, plus another minute to walk, all in all about five minutes to be on the safe side… but it really was quiet.

The silence was beginning to make me nervous. Just one scream and then sudden silence?

"This is the door. Behind this rip. He probably made it himself, to get in and out." Booth whispered. I'd suspected as much, and nodded.

"What now?"

He carefully pulled the white sheet back, revealing more green, more flashes of innocent blue… in other words, more _nothing_… and then I saw the metal frame around a plain, transparent rectangle with a small handle. Clearly the door to our green hell.

"He put this plant in front of the door so he'd hear if someone tried to get in. Open the door, crash goes the shrub."

"It's not a shrub. Maybe there's another entrance."

"Doubt that."

"Then _what_?"

Booth put his hand on the handle and tugged. The door was locked, to top it all off.

I wanted to cry.

"Wait…" Booth studied the door frame for a moment and snorted. "The door swings out, like safety regulations demand of most public buildings."

"So the plant in front of it would probably not alert him of our entering. No 'crash goes the shrub'?" I mused.

"It's just to block the view. We've still got a chance to get in if we can walk around the plant."

"It's locked. He'll hear us if we try and open it."

"I'll pick the lock." He got down on his knees and examined it for a second.

"I thought any lock worth picking was worth hitting…?" I began.

"Worth _kicking_, Bones… And you know he'd hear…"

"How will we walk around the plant? It still has to be moved so we can enter…"

"We'll think of that once the door is open."

I bit back the million questions and flaws in this… 'plan', and took a step to the right, giving Booth clear view and more light of the lock.

"I'll hold this for you so you can work better." I said, taking the curtain of white sheet and pulling higher. Booth took out a thin, sharp, nameless instrument and began working the lock.

As I waiting, I tried to catch a glimpse of an image through the foliage. The little blue flowers were everywhere, unfortunately, and hardly let any light through.

And then, quite suddenly, I could have sworn I saw a flash of colour.

"Bones, please keep a hold on this." Booth complained quietly.

The material had slipped from my hand.

"Sorry…" I said, absent-mindedly grabbing it again, still squinting ahead. My voice was surprisingly calm, but inside something broke, something insubstantial but important. "I think… I think I saw Angela, Booth."


	39. Chapter 39

_**So t**__**his would be Part Two. Enjoy. The suspense of not knowing what you think is killing me ;)**_

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**CHAPTER 39**

"_I think… I think I saw Angela, Booth."_

"What?"

He shoved me away firmly and looked. "I don't see anything."

"Let's just get this open."

He ignored me, squinting inside, trying to catch a glimpse of what I'd seen… or thought I'd seen.

"Booth." I said sharply. "Come on. There was a gunshot." My voice trembled a little on the last word. I didn't mention the scream, the sound of undiluted terror.

"Okay." He reluctantly pulled away and took out a knife from his boot. I raised my eyebrows but didn't comment, and he hacked at the white cloth until the entire door was visible. And the plant wasn't big enough to cover it all.

"Oh, God, Bones…"

The inside was enormous, even bigger than the outside looked, due to visual spacing and the readjustment to light our retinas had undergone. Neon shone from the ceiling, casting a strange glow down below in between bright and shadowed, the whites very white and the darks very black.

Rows upon rows of overgrown, rotting plants crossed the entire structure. Only five had been used in a very long time, the ones closest to us and the door. All blue, I looked away quickly.

But size was the last thing on our minds. At the very centre of the structure, between two rows of putrid, brown begonias, Angela was tied to a chair, eyes covered and mouth taped shut with green plastic tape. She still wore the clothes I'd last seen her in, but now they hung unattractively over her skin, clinging to bones more visible than ever due to malnutrition. She was filthy, and had been obviously crying, by the tear tracks on her cheeks.

It took most of my rational side not to wrench the door open, crash the horrendous blue plant to the side and run to my friend. Why didn't I do it? What prevented me from losing reason?  
Frank Bram stood next to her, a gun in each hand. He was facing at her, too far away for me to read the expression on his face. He didn't see us, didn't realise his white heaven now had a dark door we could enter.

A whimper escaped me, that my friend was alive. There was no sign of Anne or Margaret Stoker.

"Booth, do we go in?" I whispered.

"Yeah, Bones. I go in."

"_What_?"

"I'll go-"

I spun around and kicked his knee so fast he fell to the floor. He obviously hadn't expected my sudden attack. I didn't give him time to stand up again, instead I slammed my body onto his and straddled him and pinned his arms to the floor, muscles fuelled by rage.

"Bones, wait-"

"No!" I hissed. He didn't try and knock me over even though he probably could have. There was nothing sexual about our furious embrace, nothing loving or beautiful, there was just violent, passionate, desperate fury. "No! You are not leaving me behind! You are not leaving me! I will come with you to protect you! To save Angela! To end Frank! You do not get to leave me!"

He kissed me fiercely, once, and then I let go, not for one second forgetting I was angry.

"Bones, I go in through here, gun in hand. You find another way."

At this I got off of him, and helped him up.

"If I distract him first you can be the secret weapon, he won't expect you. Splitting up here is the most logical, effective way to proceed. Let me go in first, I never said you had to stay behind, I'd never leave you… behind. Find another entrance. If not, create it, shoot the glass and you'll get a nice, easy way in."

"He'll hear me come in, then."

"It's about him realising you're there when it's too late. You'll have to decide when the best moment to help me is, if I've got the situation under control, you don't have to come in at all."

And finally I saw what he was doing. He was getting me out of the way so I was only in danger the minimum time necessary. But Booth didn't treat me like a damsel in distress, he knew I could fight by his side, so I had the option of coming in when I wanted.

"You trust my judgement on this?" I said, letting him know by my tone of voice that I'd figured him out, and forgave him because he was perfectly right, it really was better to separate. I'd do what he said because I knew it was the best thing to do, not because he'd said it.

"I trust your judgement always."

He took my hand and sprinted away from the door, the door I wasn't allowed to enter, not with him. To my surprise, tears stung my eyes as I stole another look at Angela and Bram, as the horrible thought that the gunshot had obviously not been aimed at my friend sunk in. Despite the guilty relief this thought brought, I was now afraid young, fierce Anne might be dead… or her mother, who no one had really seen in a month…

We reached the other side quickly, and he let go of me and left me there, panting for breath, crying. "Booth…" I was dizzy, I would fall if he let go…

He took my face in his hands and made me look deep into his eyes, and I saw them through fear and tears and anger, I still saw them because a part of me always saw Booth's eyes no matter what.

"I'm in love you."

He kissed me again and ran, away from me, without looking back or giving me time to shout back a reply he already knew, that I loved him too, oh Booth come back, don't go on your own, what if I can't come in to save you…?

He'd slid the knife in my belt while we kissed.

I stopped crying and pulled myself together, wiping the tears with the backs of my hands, straining to hear inside, shivering with terror that Bram might shoot again, this time at Angela, that Booth might be hurt…

I couldn't see anything through the cloth, but I walked to the left, imagining the layout from this new vantage point. I was a little to the right of the only door if I stood right… here. I stopped walking.

It was too easy to slide the knife into plastic sheeting and make an opening. Through the glass I could see Bram and Angela again, from my new angle. Still he didn't notice a thing. The place was too large to be sure Anne and Margaret weren't here.

Booth hadn't gone inside yet. Bram was talking to Angela, who shook in her chair. I felt a hatred explode inside of me, my body shook with it I was so furious. Not doing anything was slowly, very painfully corroding my insides. Like acid.

And then the door opened, and Bram shot once, twice, four times, but didn't hit Booth, who kept moving and rolled on the floor until he could use a gigantic vase for cover. The fourth shot embedded in the tough ceramic and didn't crack it.

I couldn't do it, I couldn't watch from the sidelines.

I tore at the sheet furiously, knowing Bram wouldn't see me. Suddenly I realised Booth hadn't fired a single shot at _Bram_, so I stopped for a moment to look again… and cried out, but no one heard me.

Bram had his gun on Angela's temple. She was screaming, I don't know how I knew this even though she had tape covering her mouth. Booth had stood up off the floor and his gun was pointing at Bram's head. I felt paralysed by fear, but not for long. I tore my eyes away from the horrific scene and focused on the opening I had made.

It seemed to take an infuriatingly long time, but finally there was enough space for me crawl into.

I aimed at an approximate centre and with a surprisingly soft crack the bullet went right through. But the glass didn't suddenly break and fall apart, like Booth had seemed to suggest. It left a miniscule entry-point with cracks around it like a spider's web. I pulled my hair back impatiently, urging myself to focus. Of course this would happen, Temperance. Go back to science, forget emotion, remember what you already know: in greenhouses glass has a laminated panel between the first and second glass layers made of plasticized polyvinyl butyral. That meant it wasn't bullet-proof, but it wasn't easily breakable either.

I knew what I had to do. I didn't look to see if Bram had heard my first shot, didn't even think about him or my friends in there. I shot four pressure points around the first one and kicked with all my might.

The crash was loud and obvious, and Bram would have most definitely heard that.

I ducked quickly and rolled on the floor, avoiding two bullets but not the third, which clipped my shoulder and caused pain to scream through my body. I ignored the bloody wound and scrambled up.

"Frank, come on! You can't end this way. You know hurting Angela will _not_ help you!" Booth yelled, drawing attention away from me.

The worst thing was that at this moment, even now, Bram didn't look like an insane deranged man, he didn't look like a suicidal maniac. He looked angry but collected, still himself. Like we'd interrupted his daily shave, not caught him in attempted murder.

Except for the gun aimed at my best friend's head.

I didn't try and move toward them because Booth stayed where he was, and I was going to make no more mistakes tonight. Bram was still looking at me, having ignored Booth's shout. If you drew a line from Booth to me, Frank and Angela would be right at the middle.

"Temperance, why are you here?"

I didn't answer, and he carefully aimed the gun in his right hand (the one that wasn't on Angela's temple) at me.

"Why did you come with Agent Booth? He put you in danger letting you come, does he know?" He wasn't speaking very loud, and the room was large: Booth didn't hear him.

"Frank, what are you doing? Leave her alone!"

"You told him, didn't you? You made him let you come." A strange excitement tinged his tone, and I cringed. This time Booth heard.

"Frank, look at Angela! Leave Temperance alone! Angela is crying… _look at her_!"

But this only seemed to make him angrier, and the gun still pointing at me spat out a bullet that whizzed by my thigh.

"STOP SHOOTING AT MY PARTNER! Frank, listen to me!"

Finally he turned to look at Booth, and I looked around us, thinking about science, numbers, osteoporosis, osteomas, osteosyntesis, _anything_ to keep me focused and not think about Angela, who was crying and whimpering in pain, whose wrists were bleeding from being bound for so long, red also trickling from under the green tape, she was practically choking…

"Don't pretend like you want to help me." Bram said. The instant I so much as shifted my weight, his head whipped around to check on me, then Booth, then me again. "Temperance… your eyes are bluer than ever, but your soul is dark. You are a _mistake_. You are different than the others, an aberration. You're not normal, you'll never be normal, never understand."

Just words, words without meaning to me. But the venom in his eyes hurt, hurt because I knew what it meant, how he used that hate to stab, to kill…

"Ennan?" Angela was sobbing. "Ooth!" And then she was crying, moaning, speaking in intelligible vowels through the gag.

"Shut up!"

His scream was so loud, in this space. I stood there, gun aimed at his head, wishing I could just pull the trigger. Booth mirrored me exactly, from his spot. But muscles spasm and react in ways unpredictable when the brain's neurons fire electric shocks with death… and there was a very likely chance his finger would squeeze the trigger if I shot him now. And the barrel was aimed at her… but I had to remain scientific.

"Let her go, Frank." Booth said firmly. "Of course I'm not doing this for you, I hate you." I flinched. Booth's voice really did reflect that hate. What was he doing? "I hate you but I love Angela. She is my friend, she is a good person, an innocent woman. And if I have to offer you the best deal there is to set her free, I will, because I love her so much."

"But you're not _in_ love with her. You're in love with Temperance."

Booth didn't answer. I moved a step forward when Bram's back was turned, and this time he didn't seem to notice.

"Admit it, then. Admit you're in love with Temperance. Why won't you admit it? She didn't believe me, you know. When she was at my house…" and finally Booth's eyes flickered to mine for the quickest instant, and Bram aimed at him again and shot. Booth's reflexes were good, but not faster than a bullet. It grazed his already injured arm, blood spurting thick and red from the open wound. "When she was at my house…!" Bram continued loudly, and this time interlaced in his tone, tendrils of madness made it strained. "… she didn't know, I think she honestly didn't know! Poor Temperance, so innocent! It's difficult sometimes to know when someone is lying, but in this case I think she told the truth. She has this way of speaking to you, doesn't she? Vulnerable but strong, she's made of truths, she _is_ truth just as she searches for it so desperately."

He was speaking in riddles, and contradicting himself. He'd been calling my soul black and evil seconds ago. He was losing it.

I ignored his words as well as I could, that didn't matter now.

Angela was still sobbing, but silently. I moved one step closer, and stopped abruptly as Bram turned away from Booth, back to me.

"Margaret lied to me. I didn't realise it then." His voice cracked, and it sounded like he was going to cry. "She pretended to love me for fifteen years… fifteen! Even after she married that bastard…"

"You knew Margaret fifteen years ago?" I couldn't help but ask.

"I've loved Margaret since the first day I met her, 13th of July, 1994."

"Frank! Where is she?" Booth shouted from behind him, bringing him back to the real world, to 2009. "Where's Anne?"

And suddenly I saw. At the far corner, Anne stood up from her hiding place behind two brown dead creeping plants. She was covered in blood, but her blue eyes were blazing. I took two steps toward her and a bullet exploded at my feet, so I stopped. My heart had leapt to my throat, choking me. "Anne…" I whispered, but she was looking at Frank.

"Where's Margaret?" Booth asked.

"She's dead." Anne said, voice hoarse and dry, lips cracked, parched, bleeding. "She's been dead for a while. I don't know where he hid the body, but she's _dead_. It's just me here. Crazy sicko talks to his blue flowers like they are her."

"No she's not! She lied to me, the bitch lied…!"

"Frank, you need to let Angela go." Booth interrupted.

"No! Margaret is not dead!" Bram screamed, tendons in his neck jutting out. Then he seemed to calm down, come back to himself.

"Here's what's going to happen." He moved the barrel of his gun from Angela's temple to right above her heart. I began to cry again, suddenly, without being able to control my bodily functions. Tension was eating away at my remaining, adrenalin-fuelled energy. "You will leave, Agent Booth. And you, Temperance. You'll throw your guns to me and you'll leave, and not just because I could kill your angel right now."

"What are you talking about, Frank?"

"I could kill all of us, in here, with one shot."

Anne had begun walking toward me but Bram ignored her completely. She looked dead, drained, empty. Her eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow, skin papery white. She looked like an anorexic, her clothes were too large for her body now that all she was was skin and bone. But I promised myself to find life in her, to bring her back if we left this place alive.

"You're bluffing, and it sounds desperate, Frank." Booth said. But suddenly I stared at Anne, then kept looking up. About three feet above her head, the final clue clicked in place and I knew Frank's threat was… _true_.

I remembered something, something very important… I clutched a nearby row of flowerpots to steady myself because… oh no.

Anne saw what I was doing and stopped walking to me. She looked up, above our heads, and then back at me. She must have realised I took Bram's threat seriously, and in her eyes the last vestiges of hope drained away. Now her dull, blank eyes watched me as I remembered…

Cam was explaining _"They had a problem with the gas tanks and the place nearly blew up two years ago"_ I looked up again and there was, indeed, a criss-cross web of rusted pipes.

Oh no. Oh, by Booth's belief in his God, _no_.

This wasn't a bluff. One bullet to the central line and this place would explode. It was a miracle none of the previous shots fired had caused it yet, because we were directly below it.

"I see Temperance has already figured it out." Bram said gleefully.

"What?" Booth said, not daring to look up, to where I was looking, because his gun was still trained on Bram. "Bones, what have you figured out?"

"Booth, he's telling the truth." I spoke softly.

To his credit, Booth kept his face emotionless.

But as I looked I knew this wasn't all. The rust, the precarious positioning, the careless maintenance, not to mention the fact that there was obviously still some gas there, which there shouldn't be in an abandoned building. Had Bram re-installed all of those pipes himself, after they'd been taken down? It looked like a crude enough job, and that meant…

"If we don't get out of here soon, it won't need one bullet. This place will blow up on it's own."

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_**Part Three will be up soon, I promise, I absolutely promise. The end is so near... I'm taking my time with these, I know. Sadly, the funny has been sucked out of me today so no review-asking joke. Just an honest request, please? **_

_**The green button calls to you… it calls to you… calling… calling…**_


	40. Chapter 40

_**I cannot believe I am 3 reviews away from the big 1000. It's… mind-scrambling. **__**I can't believe I'm so close to finishing this, either. **_

_**It's been amazing, and despite my extreme nag-nag-nag-iness, you've all been so supportive and wonderful, telling me what you liked and didn't like, what you want**__**ed more or less of. And 40 chapters is… quite a lot! At least for me :)**_

_**I write my stories for myself, it's true, and I love writing. But I post them here for all of you, and I know you appreciate the work I put into them.**_

_**So THANK YOU!**_

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**CHAPTER 40**

"_This place will blow up on it's own."_

Booth's eyes didn't flicker to my face again. Bram had a few shots left, and the risk was too much. Still a small, childish part of me wished for some comfort amidst the raging tempest. The rest of me knew better, knew it was my responsibility and Booth's to come out alive.

Anne was almost by my side. The sharp lights threw shadows over her gaunt face and I swore to myself I would protect her from any harm.

"Frank." I said softly. He was looking at me with wide eyes, just me, not Anne, as though she didn't exist now that her mother was gone.

"Please let Anne go. Look at her."

He did, for a moment, but he didn't see.

"I can't." He said dumbly. His arm with the gun pointing to Angela's heart slackened. I should just shoot him, just get this over with. "I can't let Anne go, poor Margaret would miss-"

"She's dead!" Anne screamed. "Dead! D-E-A-"

"Anne be quiet!" Booth snapped. She looked feverish, but didn't say anything else. But now the gun was once again aimed true, even though his arm did shake a little.

"Frank, Angela hasn't done anything wrong. Neither has Anne, or Booth."

Booth's eyes snapped on mine, screaming a warning not to do this. But I knew it was the right thing to do. Three lives outweigh the one, that is scientifically accepted.

Especially if the one is… mine.

And I love them.

"Frank, if you let them go, I'll stay and help you look for Margaret." I said quietly.

"No-!" Booth whispered, eyes burning. "No, Temperance-"

"Shut up!" Bram took another shot at him and missed, but it was close.

"Yeah Booth, shut up." I said, my voice sounding strange even to my own ears.

"Will you really?" Bram asked.

"Yes."

"You know what? I believe you." He took one step toward me, a small one, clearly unconsciously. Angela was perfectly still, her every breath making the barrel of the gun dig painfully into her chest. Anne was still too, but her eyes seemed to finally spark to life a little: she was staring at me in horror, mouth open in a delicate 'o'.

"I'm glad you do, Frank."

"I believe that you'd stay with me because you love him so much."

"It's true." I whispered, and I was looking at Booth as I said it.

"But I don't know where she is. I… I loved her, Temperance."

I'd never been good at lying, never. But I was lying for my life, lying with everything that I had, masking and burying everything I felt, smothering the urge to cry or scream.

"It's okay, we'll find her again. Together we'll find her. I miss her too."

"Do you? She was so beautiful, wasn't she? They all were."

"Yes." I think I wasn't shaking. I stood tall and straight and kept him talking. SWAT would be here soon, but if they didn't get here in time, at least Booth, Angela and Anne could be outside before me… before this all went up in flames…

"Lily was so fragile. I never meant… she just… she loved him! I never… wanted to hurt her."

Yes you did. Multiple stab wounds to the chest and ribs mean you _did_, you evil, you crazy madman…!

But I just nodded. "Of course."

"And Helen… pretty, pretty Helen."

"I know."

"Sandra… she was bad. I had to do it."

"Yes."

"But Jeanie… oh, she was the worst."

"I believe you." I steeled myself by looking at Booth once more. "But Anne hasn't done anything wrong. Look at her beautiful face, at her wonderful, blue blue eyes. She hasn't done anything wrong, Frank. She's Margaret's daughter. Look at her beautiful blue eyes."

And finally, he did. In his own eyes the madness had grown from a glint to a glaze, and I was very afraid for Angela, with every pounding beat of my heart I was afraid for my friend.

"No…" Anne breathed, coming alive again as she stared at her mother's killer. "I…"

"Go." Frank said flatly.

"But… Tempe…" my heart clenched that she had room to think of me. But she must go.

"Goodbye, Anne." I said firmly. Booth was signalling for her to walk to him. But Anne just kept looking at me, breathing heavily. She was paralysed, her thoughts clearly conflicted.

Frank pointed his other arm to the pipe above his head.

"Go, Anne!" He shouted.

She began to run, but when she reached Booth's side she stopped. It was such a risk, what I knew she was about to do, but even at this moment the girl was much smarter than I'd given her credit for. She threw her arms around my partner and grasped him with all her strength, but she did it so her body stood between his and Bram, so Bram couldn't shoot without hitting her.

Then she was gone, running out the greenhouse door at a sprint and not stopping.

When she was out of sight a small, lone tear freed itself from my lashes and rolled down my cheek. Then it was gone too.

"Thank you." I said.

Booth hadn't spoken, hadn't moved since Anne had clung to him like the frightened little child that she was. I had to save Angela next.

"Frank, why don't you let Angela go? She can help Anne, she's strong enough for that."

"No. Angela stays."

And I realised his fury at my friend was far from appeased. That he still hated her for having dark irises, for being strong, for finding me, for finding him. I took an unconscious step forward, feeling the sting of the bullet that had grazed my arm before. My sleeve was completely bloody now, and I saw Booth wasn't much better off. His face was pale and strained.

"But look at her."

Angela wasn't crying anymore, or choking on her own blood. She was just still, silent, collected, trying to appear invisible. Shoulders hunched, head down.

He looked at her too.

And putting his gun to her forehead, he ripped off the tape on her mouth. She cried out in pain and I saw the blood from a split lip. She spat more blood on the floor, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"Brennan…" She said, her voice high and rough. "I love you, sweetie. I love you."

"Me too, Ange."

I turned to Bram, who was looking at Angela's blood-red lips, gun digging into her forehead. His face was a mask of conflict. "Come on, Frank. She's so innocent. You said I was a mistake… what if Angela is too? What if Angela is the good in my bad?"

Booth was looking at me with intensity, condensed feelings into one expression. His love, admiration, strength, courage, they all shone on me… and he knew he couldn't speak because I was saving them, one by one, and he was an expert on hostage negotiation and he understood what I was doing, and why he couldn't intervene right now. I was alone for a few more sentences.

"But… what if you're wrong?"

"I'm never wrong." I said firmly. Bram smiled, and I felt a violent shudder rack my body, because it was disgusting.

"Okay. Okay then…"

He turned to me, arms still in an L figure: one pointed at Angela's head, one at the pipe. "Leave your gun on the floor and kick it away from you. Now. Agent Booth, you too. I can squeeze this trigger easily before you shoot me. I've got nothing to lose and all that shit… right? Do it."

I exchanged a glance with Booth and we did as Bram asked.

"Good. Now Agent Booth will step back ten paces." Booth was shaking his head, eyes wide.

"Frank, Angela…" he began, but Bram interrupted.

"Shut up! No talking from you, anymore."

He had no choice. Booth began walking backwards, never turning. His arm looked bad and his steps were slow but firm.

"Okay, then…" and Bram undid the blindfold. Angela's eyes were closed, and she didn't open them. I secretly thanked her that even at this moment she remained smart. She knew better than to show him her dark eyes now.

"Angela, can you undo your legs now?" He asked her, and in his voice a strange tenderness dripped like a venomous poison.

"Yes." She said quietly. She didn't try to tell me anything again, didn't even try to look at me. She just bent down and fumbled for a minute with the rope tying her legs to the left side of the chair. Then she was free.

"Stand up and walk away."

It took two attempts for Angela to stand, because her legs were too weak to support her weight. All the while Bram kept his gun on her head.

And finally she was upright. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen. She looked at me and mouthed 'I love you' again. Then she turned and walked past Booth to the door.

She, like Anne, also stopped when she reached him and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"You can do this." She whispered.

And then she was gone.

The relief was painful, and threatened to melt my tense muscles. Angela would live. The reason we came here tonight, she would live, she would be fine.

But it was also horribly short-lived relief. Bram hated Booth, and now Booth didn't have a gun. And Bram's was pointed at him.

"Frank…" I began.

"No. Not him."

I clenched my teeth. "Frank he's done nothing-"

"Don't say that. Don't lie to me, Temperance. Of course he's done horrible things. Of course he has."

"To you. Nothing to you. He's a good man, let him-"

"I know that you love him. But your love won't save him now."

Booth was looking at me. "Temperance, I love you too."

"I know." I breathed. "I know Booth, and I love you, I love you but now…"

"Stop it!" Bram said suddenly. "What about the woman _I _loved? What about Margaret! We have to find her, I don't know where she is!"

"I'll help you." I said desperately. "I'll help you, Frank, I told you I would, just let Booth go-"

"No!"

"Let him go, he's innocent!"

"No, Tempe!"

"Then _kill_ me, but save her."

I was in shock. I couldn't speak because something seemed to lodge in my larynx and I was asphyxiating. Booth couldn't die, he just couldn't. Never.

"Kill you?" Bram said, and his voice considered the possibility. It brought me back.

"Booth, shut up." I said savagely.

"No. Kill me, but let Temperance walk away."

"Stop it!" I cried.

"For once listen to me, Bones, and let me save your life!"

"I'll never let you die for me, Booth, I won't…"

Bram fired two shots into the air, which deliberately missed the pipe by inches. He was a good shot.

"Enough!"

"Booth, go away! Frank, let Booth leave and I'll stay with you forever, I promise…"

"Frank she doesn't know what she's saying, I'm right here, you coward, shoot me if that means she can live…!"

"Booth shut the hell up!"

"Both of you stop it!"

"Temperance, I'm warning…"

"Booth…"

"ENOUGH!" Bram screamed.

We were silent, but I kept murdering Booth with my gaze, to get him to understand. He just returned my look with equal force, pupils dilated and breathing heavily from the wound in his arm.

"I'll kill both of you if you don't shut up."

"I'm sorry." I said quietly, to appease him. Because he had to listen to me. He had to do as I said, to keep me in Booth's place.

But something terrible was happening to Frank Bram right before our eyes. He took deep breaths, deep, steadying breaths and Booth looked afraid, for the first time since we'd entered this place he looked scared so I was too…

Something was horribly wrong.

"I never meant to… become a murderer." Bram said suddenly. "I never wanted to kill any of them. Not even Margaret. _I never meant for it to happen_."

I froze.

"It was unintended, I swear."

And he took careful aim and fired his gun into the central line.

Instinct took over as I heard the terrible high pitched sound of gas escaping the perforated tubes. The bullet itself, miraculously, hadn't lit it yet. But it wouldn't take long for the gas…

Booth and I locked eyes for less than a second, then turned and ran in opposite directions. He was closest to the door, and I felt faint with relief that Bram had made him walk backward, away from the pipe, to safety. He would make it, Booth would be fine…

I ran with all the power my legs had left. I was a bit farther from the hole I'd made in the wall, but maybe if I was fast enough…

And then I heard it. Above the shrill leaking and the creak as pipes began to fall from the ceiling, the sound of more bullets.

I skidded to a stop and spun around, and Bram was shooting at Booth.

I stopped running and changed direction. It didn't matter that I might die, it didn't matter that I saw a spark out of the corner of my eye… I didn't matter. Only he mattered, only Booth.

"Seeley!"

The cry was ripped out of me violently, and I couldn't see properly, but it looked like Booth was on the floor and now Bram was advancing on him, no, please no…!

And that was when all hell broke loose.

A first shockwave sent me flying back at least twenty feet, scorching my clothes and hair with heated air. They were only first degree burns, however, and I didn't _matter_…

"Booth!"

I scrambled to get back up but now most of the place was on fire and I couldn't walk, I was choking and crying because of the smoke, and fire meant more explosions were coming, oh Booth live, please _live._

A second heat wave, this one carrying burning debris like flaming bullets, threw me against the wall of the greenhouse and I heard a loud crack as the glass behind me absorbed my impact.

I fell to the floor in a bundle, a vulnerable heap. Would I die? Was this the way I died? Would they find me? Would they know it had been me, after the fire had taken my flesh and all that was left was bone… would they know who I was?

I stood up, trembling, feeling blind because all I saw was red and white flame, and the smoke that blurred everything. The crackling flames were loud and all I could think was…  
_Booth_.

There was a battle going on inside me. Rational versus sentimental. It was fought furiously in two seconds, but they were valuable seconds I wasted thinking when I should have been acting. More heat waves were coming and these would bring more than debris, these would be pure flame, not just hot air.

I knew it was irrational to run toward Booth. Not just irrational, it was impossible. I wouldn't make it past two steps because the third heat wave would kill me. And yet my sentimental part wanted, desperately, to try, to try and see if he was alive, to save him, to go to Booth…

I would die. I couldn't run to Booth, I couldn't even _see_, how would I find him?

And then my rational side won, because I knew what I had to do. A part of me _would_ die because of this choice, a part I brutally shoved aside because I had to do it, objectively speaking it was our best chance, mine and Booth's.

I ran away from the blazing inferno, blindly searching for the hole in the glass, to feel the jagged edges I'd shot to come inside. It wasn't long before I felt the stinging pain of fingers cutting on sharp material. A roaring sound behind me announced the final, brutal wave of fire.

I scrambled through and felt the cold night air like a breath of life, but I didn't have time to do more than gasp and cough, because with a deafening blast the world behind me exploded.

I was thrown forty, maybe fifty feet forward and I landed on wet grass. My back felt sore and burning, and I immediately rolled on the floor to smother any flames. I couldn't hear anything, my ears must be blocked, but that wasn't important. I clung to the thought of Booth like a sailor clings to a lifeboat. I stood as quickly as I could, fell down because my balance was totally off, then stood again. I heaved dry coughs and gasps, eyes stinging and watery, trying to get the shock out of my system as fast as possible.

It took a few attempts, but finally I could stand without swaying (much). Sounds began filtering in again, slowly and muted, but that meant there was no permanent auditory damage.

I pushed through the pain and the dizziness, running in a wide circle around the gigantic burning structure, occasionally tripping and landing on the grass. The air was hot and impossible to breathe, my hair smelled like it had been singed, but I didn't care anymore. If I'd been wrong, if I had no time…

"Booth!" I tried to shout, but all that came out was a wheezing, choking sound.

I saw lights a distance away, maybe not just white and orange lights but blue and red, like maybe, _finally_ SWAT was here…

"Booth!" this time, I could say his name. "Booth!"

I had got to the other side, but I couldn't see anything and if I got closer the flames would reach me. "Booth!" I stopped running and looked at the crackling, flaming monster that filled my vision.

The enormous… _size_ of the smouldering greenhouse hit me like a drop kick to the stomach. From the outside I felt small, miniscule before the power of the burning hell that outshone the night sky. Only the skeleton of the structure remained, the rest had been burned away, but it was still so… titanic.

And where, how would I find Booth around there? Every flame threw uneven shadows on the grass and the smoke really did make edges blur and twist so I wasn't sure of what was real and what wasn't… I felt frantic, blinking furiously to try and clear my eyesight, where are you Booth?

"No…! Booth! Come on! Where are you?"

He wasn't there. There were no bodies on the grass, only-

And then I saw. What had once been a man and was now just… human remains, lying very close to what had once been the door to a greenhouse. A voice inside me was saying 'Male, approximately six feet one, not much flesh left by the blast…'

"No… NO!"

I started running, suddenly the flames didn't matter, I was nothing, he was everything, Booth was always everything… I'd always loved him, always…

And I felt strong arms grasp me from behind, stopping me from killing myself.

"Let me go!" I screamed, kicking, fighting with the last remnants of strength I had. "Booth! NO! _Booth_!"

"Temperance."

I stopped flailing and turned around.

He was there. He was holding me and he was there and I threw my arms around him and held him so close we weren't holding each other anymore, we belonged to the same being, we were one person and he was my life, my _life_…

"Temperance, I love you! I love you, my God, Bones, I love you so much I can't believe it… oh my God… I'm so glad you're okay, you're alive, I thought…" he was doing that thing where he hurt me with his massive strength, but didn't really _hurt _me, and I was laughing and crying and holding on to his body for dear life.

"I love you too, Booth, always, I love you, I… always…" My throat felt constricted as I clutched him, feeling faint with happiness that his heart, that I could hear his heart and feel it beat steadily in his chest. My best friend, his heart.

We sank to the floor because neither of us had any strength in our legs left to stand, and we just sat there, holding each other. Together.

And that's how they found us, a little too close to the fire, and they lifted us up and took us to the safety distance required. There were a lot of cars, two fire-fighter trucks were on their way, and Agents swarmed the place. We were asked if Bram was dead, how many people had been inside, how we'd escaped.

Then Angela was there, surrounded by medics, but she broke away and she screamed. "Temperance! You're alive! You're okay, Booth! Oh God, oh my God I'm so glad you're… Oh honey, I'm so _sorry_…" and she burst into tears.

"What?"

"I'm sorry you had to… I'm sorry I let him get me…"

"No!" I said firmly, still clutching Booth, but with my free (if recently gunshot) arm I brought her close to me and hugged her. She sobbed into my shoulder and Booth put his arm around her too.

"Angela I'm so happy you're okay, we'll be fine, we'll all be fine…"

"Tempe?"

It was Anne, sitting on the hood of one of the black SUV's, already patched up. She slid onto the floor and tentatively came toward us.

"Is he dead?"

"Yes, Anne." Booth said gently.

"Good."

I took a deep breath and no one knew how much it cost me to break away from him, no one knew…

"You're safe now. We'll find your mother."

I walked to her, feeling cold air sting my raw skin, feeling that every step away from him hurt, and I opened my arms and she ran forward into my embrace. I held her as she shook silently, and didn't cry.

"The team are coming." Angela croaked. "Cam and Sweets… and Hodgins… they'll be here soon."

I nodded, and we both leaned against each other, exhausted.

More medics were surrounding us, demanding attention to Booth's and my wounds. I extended a hand toward him and he took it immediately, his fingers callused and rough, and comforting. As people asked me where I hurt, and I held the young girl shaking in my arms and I felt my friend's weight next to mine, I looked at the man I loved and read his mind without needing to speak.

And he kissed my lips and stood beside me, and I drew strength from his eyes…

And smiled.


	41. Chapter 41

_**Here it is.**__** This is the chapter-before-last.**_

_***sniffles***_

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**CHAPTER 41**

A roiling mass of fire-fighters and FBI Agents had completely taken over, and were fighting about situation assessment and control. My arm had been bandaged somewhat patchily and three separate medics had tried (the key word here being _tried_) to haul me into an ambulance. With two, a look had been enough. I'd kicked the other in the shin, hard.

I knew they were right of course, but perhaps the adrenalin had finally eaten away at the rational thinking left in me. Or perhaps (and this I was afraid to think) I'd used up all my rationality in deciding to run outside and take the long, but safe, way to save Booth instead of sprinting through the fire and dying. This would haunt me forever, this decision to kill all feeling therefore killing my heart.

This would follow me always.

Now I stood in his arms, just being there with my eyes shut, feeling the sting from the burns on my cheeks and hands, the multiple cuts and bruises. Apparently I might have a fractured rib, too. Oh, and of course the bullet wound in my arm, matching his.

Angela had been holding Anne until her aunt came. Her name was Louise and she was Margaret's sister. She had screamed at three Agents until she got to talk to a senior Agent, screamed at him some more, and before her rather bemused niece, threatened to sue the FBI. They had left soon after that, and Anne hadn't looked back.

"Bones… I love you."

I clutched him harder.

"It feels so amazing to say that. I love you. You are my… I love you."

Still I didn't speak, instead I squeezed my eyes shut harder and wished I could block out every sound but his voice. But there were sounds… memories, I couldn't block out. And with my eyes closed, they seemed closer than before…

The rumble of a car I knew made me open my eyes, and turn in search of the source.

And then Hodgins was there, and he ran full pelt into Angela and almost knocked her to the floor. They kissed passionately and I was surprised that I wasn't really surprised. Cam was crying, and she hugged Angela too, and kissed both of her cheeks. Sweets, to everyone's surprise, hugged her and swept her off her feet, spun her around in a circle then let her go again.

They all turned to look at us: Angela clutching Hodgins' hand, Sweets breathing hard and looking younger than ever, Cam quietly crying with fierce happiness. Booth kissed the top of my head and I knew he must be looking right back at them, but I couldn't look at them.

I stared at a place no one else could see: a place alive with flame where I had to choose… suddenly my decision seemed to be the only thing I could see, filling my mind and making the rest just… vanish.

"They both thought the other was dead." Angela said quietly.

The silence was… strange. Solemn. I thought I might be in shock, finally, after everything, because I couldn't bear the walk to them, I couldn't move, I needed to stay this close to Booth or closer. I closed my eyes again and fought the desperate urge to cry. The fire kept burning in my mind. The crunch as my back slammed into the glass wall, the heat scorching my skin, tears evaporating as I cried them, Booth on the floor, or at least it looked like him, a wall of flame chasing me. I began to shake slightly.

Sweets said hesitantly: "Okay. Okay then… maybe they should be alone for a few moments."

But almost as one, they came to us.

I felt them all around me, Angela's hair brushed my cheek, Cam's tears wet my shoulder, Sweets' hand on my arm, Hodgins' weight on my side. And Booth, holding me up.

With them all so close, I realised that the fire was out. That I was here and my decision had saved my life, and that if I hadn't managed to cling to rationality in that moment, Booth would be alive outside and I would be a hologram and Angela would have to recreate my features, Hodgins would have to make sure I'd been killed today, Cam would have to make sure it was _me_, Sweets would have to help Booth… help Booth cope with my death…

I was alive.  
And I began to cry, no longer shaking, because I was alive, and surrounded by people I loved more than anything else.

_*_

*

"So Margaret Stoker is dead?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to find her remains."

"We know."

"Where-?"

"There are a million places. It might take us years to find her."

"He was… He began stalking her fifteen years ago?"

"Yeah. Thought her marrying that scumbag Stoker was like a betrayal. What Mr Stoker did wrong was embezzle some money for the mob and get caught by his daughter. Frank Bram murdered five innocent women. Tell me who was worse, will you?"

"And, of course, now we know why she didn't change her name."

At this I looked up. So far I'd been listening to Booth and Sweets in silence, but this, still, I didn't understand.

"Do we? I don't understand."

Booth sat down on the couch next to me, that couch in Sweets' office we knew so well. The look in his eyes was the same as it always was: a caring, strong, loving respect. But this time I recognised it for what it _meant_.

"Bones, no matter what horrible things her husband did, she'd married him. In spite of herself, she'd loved Kevin Stoker for twenty years, and even though he'd endangered her daughter's life, she couldn't erase what she'd felt so long ago, no matter how angry she was now."

"But what matters is _now_, not-"

"It was an unconscious manifestation, Dr Brennan." Sweets said.

"After everything, Sweets, you can call me Temperance if you want." I said, thinking about last week, the fire, the burns, the pain… and how it all faded away when my friends and Booth came.

He smiled. "Thank you. I'd like that."

"It was just her own unconscious acknowledgement of a love that had existed and died, and it should have told us immediately that he was never the murderer." Booth continued.

"Why?"

"If he had been, she would never have introduced herself as Margaret Stoker."

I wasn't completely sure I understood, but we had more pressing matters to address. The atmosphere in the room changed subtly as the silence stretched on, and I felt it shift focus, from the memory of Margaret to us.

"So… Sweets." I began.

"Yes, Temperance?"

"What happens now?"

Booth and I hadn't seen each other until today, because we'd been in different hospitals (apparently I kicked that EMT pretty hard). When we got Sweets' call to discuss our relationship, I'd panicked, not really knowing what that relationship was. And Booth was already there when I arrived, and I didn't think he was about to kiss me in front of the kid, so I wasn't really sure…

"You tell me." Sweets said.

I looked at Booth. He looked at me, and gave a small nod of encouragement. He expected _me_ to be spokesperson about our feelings?

"I love Booth." I said bluntly. And in the end that's all I said, because I found I couldn't elaborate on the matter in front of Sweets.

The smile on the psychologist's face was radiant. "I know, Temperance." He said.

I rolled my eyes, avoiding looking at Booth. "When I told Angela, I thought she'd be emotional, or cry, or say 'I told you so' or stuff like that… but she just laughed for ten minutes straight, just fell over laughing!" My indignation was, apparently, very funny too, because Sweets chuckled and Booth… oh, Booth.

"Cam just nodded, she already knew too. And Hodgins was with Angela, but I don't think he really heard me…" I remembered the look on Hodgins' face the first couple of days, when he couldn't let her out of his sight and a kind of panic crept into his cobalt eyes if she so much as coughed.

"And now this. For how long had everybody around me known I was in love with Booth and not told me?" I demanded. "It might have helped a lot, you know. It would have made a lot of things much easier if you'd just put us in a room, said: Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan is in love with you. Discuss."

There was no movement on Booth's side of the couch, and again I didn't dare check why. Sweets was smiling brightly. "Dr Brennan, that would be impossible. Not only would you immediately deny what I was saying as I was saying it, but it wouldn't give you chance to deal with the fact yourself, exposing the knowledge before you were ready for it. Psychologically speaking, that's… not great."

Booth shifted in his seat and I risked a glance. He looked stern. "You do know you've lied to quite a few senior FBI Directors, right, Sweets?"

"Hey, let's be fair: you did too, Booth."

"_What_?" I said, incredulous.

"To maintain our partnership intact, Sweets never wrote a report in which he included an evaluation of our emotional attachment. Or, if he did, he wrote it off as friendship. Am I right?"

"Yeah." Sweets didn't look like a kid anymore. He looked proud and fierce. "And I'd do it again, as would you."

"Of course."

I felt my eyes moisten a little as I thought about this young man risking his career for us, helping us in his little ways, trying not to lose patience with our obstinacy. I understood, better than I had at the time, why sometimes he snapped at me, and felt myself forgive him as I realised why he'd done it.

"Thank you, Sweets."

"For the record, I love Temperance too." Booth said suddenly, like he'd just remembered he hadn't said it aloud yet. "I know it kind of goes without saying, but that hasn't worked very well for us. Not saying stuff."

I smiled, looking down at my hands. But then his large palm clasped them both, and they looked small and fragile next to his rough fingers, and I looked up at him. His eyes had the intense, blazing look of love he'd only ever let me see in small bursts before… now I saw it for real, and there wasn't turmoil and pain and self-loathing there, just calm.

"When you smile… when I say 'I love you' and you smile… I'd like to see that."

I couldn't speak.

"You'll be allowed to continue working together, by the way." Sweets said. I started, remembering he was in the room, and then felt joy explode in my heart.

"But I thought you said you'd had to lie to protect us…!"

"Well, what's forbidden is an undisclosed relationship. That wasn't your case, but what you had was… worse, in a way. Let me explain. I figured out you had a dysfunctional relationship which, given time, could be counter-productive to your work: and there lay the real danger. You were in love with each other and were attempting to repress or ignore those feelings. Psychologically speaking, that's _very_ unhealthy, and stressful. It would add strain to your work-life, and so to your solving rate." Here he glanced at Booth. "I believe Booth had a worse time with that at first-"

"And dealt with it abominably." Booth muttered darkly, referring no doubt to his strange long periods of anger and brusqueness toward me. I'd already forgiven him.

"Yes, but then you, Temperance, decided to realise what you felt as well, and now _both_ of you were trying to look away from the truth, in thinking the other didn't feel the same."

It was strange to hear the past weeks described to me in such a crisp, scientific way.

"That was bad, very bad, and if I'd written that in one of my reports, the FBI would have immediately severed your partnership, and, I'm afraid, been right in doing so. But now that the air is cleared, so to speak, when you inform Deputy Director Edwards and sign the appropriate papers, you should be fine. Unless, of course, your solving rate falls, which I doubt."

"It won't." I wanted to assure him immediately. I feared I might soar up into the air, if Booth wasn't holding my hands and tethering me to the ground.

"So… is that all?" Booth asked.

"Yes, that's all I wanted to say."

Booth sprang up and pulled me after him, so we were both standing.

"Excellent. Bones and I are going."

"We are?" I asked, bemused.

"Yep. Haven't seen you in a week, you think I'd let you escape my sight so quickly?"

"See you guys tomorrow, right?"

"Sure, Sweets."

And we both left him, owing him our jobs and maybe our lives too. Because, being apart, I shudder to think what would have happened. 'Just coffee' was nothing, 'just coffee' wasn't living.

"So… you came here in your car?" he asked.

"Yes. You know, driving. Myself. Because I can drive. In fact, I might have mentioned this before, but I'm an excellent driver."

"I see."

"What?" My stomach was fluttering nervously, my mouth was dry and my palms perspired. Why?

"Well, I was already in the building, working, and I leant my car to Agent Finn this morning."

It was my turn to say: "I see."

"So maybe you could drive me home?"

I stopped walking and raised my eyebrows at him in surprise. "_Really_?"

"Please?"

"Yeah, sure."

The elevator ride was silent, and the walk to the car was silent too.

"So, Bones…"

"Yes?"

"Do you, uh…? How do you feel about clearing the air?"

"How do I _feel_ about it?" Then I realised what he meant. "Oh. You mean talking about our feelings without Sweets being present."

"That would be great."

"I agree." I opened the door to my car. "But I already said that I love you."

"I don't know what that means."

I stopped in the motion of getting inside. "Really? You don't know what 'I love you' means?" I asked him. It was hard to believe that _he_ was the one saying that to _me_. It felt good, for a change.

He nodded. "I know what it means. I just don't know what it _means_."

"You're confusing me."

"What do you want to tell Edwards? That we're together?"

I couldn't believe it. In all my years of working with Booth, I'd never heard him sound as frightened, as… insecure, as he did now.

"Yes." I answered simply. Together was the best way to describe exactly what we had, what we'd always be.

He smiled, and walked over to me, and kissed my lips.

"Great."

I smiled back. "It's settled, then."

"Yeah." His voice was a bit hoarse. I realised what was on his mind at the same time that I realised what had been on mine for a while now.

"So…" we were standing very close right now. My eyes were level with his jaw, and I remembered all the forbidden kisses we'd stolen before, all the pacts, the 'last time's, all the lies turned to promises to stop… and now, was it really all right? No more walls to take down?

"So do you want to have sex?"

I really hadn't intended to sound so blunt. Really.

I promise I didn't think, I didn't consider the possible reactions to my words, I just said what was honestly on my mind and Booth…

Was laughing.

Well, great.

"I… could I possibly ask you to forget I just said that?"

"No way!" He had to lean against the car to stay upright, he was laughing so hard, and I felt blood rush to my cheeks and a blush that gave me away.

"Please?"

"No, Bones." Abruptly the laughter was gone. I let myself smile in anticipation, because his tone meant one thing, and one thing only. "No way am I forgetting you just said that."

"You sure?" I breathed, playing him. "Because I really can't remember…"

"Sex." He said firmly.

"I… really? I don't recall saying _sex_…"

"You did. Trust me, you did."

He was leaning closer and closer, but without actually touching me. His breath was warm and his mouth was tempting, but I was having too much fun.

"Hmmm… I might take a bit of convincing."

"Fine. Then _I_'ll say it."

I felt my pulse pounding in my ears and my body responding to his words. An energy, a kind of freedom, spread through my veins and arteries like a drug taking effect: there was nothing wrong with this anymore. It was good, it was all right.

"Sex."

It sounded too good in his voice. I was melting already.

"Stop it." I chastised. But weakly, and I didn't really mean it.

The next thing I knew, he was kissing me, and it was better, oh it was so much better than any kiss we'd ever had before. Better than a passionate moment taken from time, better than anything because it was real, and the knowledge that Booth loved me, and had said so, and he was here, kissing me now… a deep warmth enveloped our bodies and settled inside of me.

We broke apart and went into the car, identical smiles on our faces. There was no need to rush anything, anymore. We could take our sweet time with it.

"Bones…" He said, right before I started the engine. He put his hand over mine to stop me, and I knew he was about to say something important, so I took it and looked back, letting everything I felt for him spill through my eyes.

"Yes?" His eyes were so beautiful. I smiled.

"I never intended for any of this, and you certainly didn't either. But… you know what? I think it _was_ meant to happen."

He kissed me again, softly, the ghost of a touch.

And we were gone.

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_**Well, this is the end. There's another chapter, yes, but it'**__**s an epilogue.**_

_**Once again, it's been amazing. I am honoured and thrilled at the response this fic has had, and I am thankful for every line of encouragement, every constructive idea to better it.**_

_**Thank you.**_

_**.**_

_**PS1: The epilogue is not a 20 years later about Booth-Bones' kids, mmmm'kay?? ;)**_

_**PS2: ****R**em**E**mber I lo**V**e you **I**f you d**E**cideto **W**rite your thoughts in that cute little white box. How? Well, you just click the button below and it takes you to the magical land of cute white boxes to write your thoughts in! Also, a free Booth with every click!_

_REALLY! I'm not bluffing, it's totally true! Trust me!_


	42. Chapter 42

_**This is just a little tag at the end. Not very memorable, not very long, just a proper ending.**__** I wanted to wrap it up properly. You'll see. I… *sniffle* I'm so happy and sad that this is the end… I love you guys!**_

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**CHAPTER 42**

I walk up the platform briskly, to make up for the fact that I'm late.

"Ange!" She's waiting for me by the remains, and turns and smiles when she meets my eye.

"Sweetie!" Old nicknames die hard. I'm not really sure that's the correct expression, but something like that, anyway. "This is Jane Doe 4560."

I walk next to her and she gives me a light kiss on the cheek.

"Where's Booth?"  
"Until I rule this a murder, he's in his office buried in paperwork." I say lightly. Over the years the ache of not having Booth close has faded into a calm sense of belonging, because I know that no matter where he is, we're together.

"Again?"

"Ange, this isn't like the old days."

She laughs, and for an instant her face looks ten years younger, just pure, undiluted fun. "Believe me, I've noticed the difference." She's obviously referring to those first five years when Booth and I had the strangest partner dynamic in the FBI. I smile back, remembering too: how blind I'd been, how stubborn he'd become.

"I meant that we don't have all the time in the world anymore. We are needed so many places… we can't work every accidental death." I nudge her playfully. "And our team of world-renowned scientist sidekicks are invaluable to help us solve the unsolvable, you know."

"It's been so long, Brennan. Since this all began, do you remember?"

"Yes." I allow myself a moment of nostalgia, that time would pass so quickly. "It all seems a blur now." I admit. "When Goodman was still here. I was sad he left, but Cam came and we… Sweets… and then Zack…"

I spent a year trying everyone, everything, anything to fill the void Zack had left. No one did, no matter how much they wanted to meet my expectations, no matter how reasonably intelligent they were.

But the memory of Zack isn't so painful now. Since he was declared fit for expert consultation work five years ago, we've seen quite a lot of him. It's been mostly video streaming from his detention facility, however, he comes to the lab in person very rarely. When he does, it's only if he needs to examine a set of remains himself after _all else_ has failed (including Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Booth and me), with two armed guards watching his every move. Not that they need to, Zack never killed anybody. I've always known this.

But I miss him, of course, I always will because it's not enough to see his pixelated smile, but it's so much better than _nothing_.

"He's talking to Hodgins right now. In the Bone room." Angel says gently. I start, remembering what I'm supposed to do now is work, not reminisce.

"Zack?"

"Yeah. Complaining about the low quality of the picture." She scoffs. "As if! My video streaming is of incredible definition!"

"It's great, Angela. Don't worry, Zack just wants perfection."

"Oh _just_ perfection, is it? Well, if it's _just_ perfection, that's easy…"

I smile and look down at the person lying in my examination table.

Clearly a Caucasian female, she was in her forties or early fifties when she died. Few occupational markers, but my eyes are instantly drawn to the marks on her ribcage.

Angela points to it, over the years she's picking up some things.

"That looks bad. Cuts, not breaks, right?"

I nod, and lean in to look closer. "Deep and irregular… a sharp blade. Probably a knife." I murmur. They spark a memory, something stored deep inside which I hadn't thought of in a very long time.

"He was _furious_…"

"Bren?"

Suddenly my eyes lose focus, and I take a step back. It can't be. I have no proof yet, no evidence, I don't even have a facial reconstruction! It's not necessarily her!

But I know. Somehow, some impossible instinct is screaming at me that I can't deny this, that it _is_ her.

"Brennan." Angela's voice is firm and strong. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I… need to…" I take a step back and breathe calmly. "I think this is Margaret Stoker." My voice is cold, low, almost blank. I realise with some surprise it's been a while since I've spoken like this to my friends.

"_What_?"

I shake my head. "Okay, no. It… it might not be. The markers make it likely… and the cuts, and… and her age, the bone structure…" An image suddenly makes me close my eyes. Of Angela tied to a chair, her chapped lips bleeding, and it takes her two attempts to stand.

"Angela, I'm sorry."

She has a hand clamped over her mouth in shock. "It's okay… I'm okay, Brennan. Are _you_?"

"I'm fine."

We both look at the woman who I can still see, after all this time, walking with the air of elegance and superiority around her apartment… but also cowering from my partner's questions about her daughter… I watch her crying behind a glass pane and I want to help her, to defend her, to protect…

"People, who _died_?"

It's Cam. I can't believe her joke is so tasteless, I almost yell at her in anger until I realise I'm laughing. I'm laughing and Angela is too, thank God, it's all so sad and funny and terrible…

I stop laughing abruptly, and I feel a little light headed. I wish Booth was here.

Cam looks appalled. "I'm sorry." She says, wide-eyed. "I'm so sorry, what's wrong?"

"We think this is Margaret Stoker." Angela says.

Cam reacts with practised instincts. She's shocked, but she nods gravely. "It's not a confirmed match, though, am I right? This is our first day with that set of remains."

"Yes." I say. "Of course, it was a baseless hypothesis… no, it wasn't even a hypothesis, it was a wild guess. Nothing more." I'm myself again now.

"Okay, first we need confirmation. Then we'll deal with the results, if you're right. Making such leaps will lead us nowhere."

"I'll call Booth. This is definitely a murder."

As I'm walking away to use my office phone, Angela catches up with me. "Wait, Brennan… if it _is_ her…? Do we know where Anne is?"

We'd met Anne one more time after the night we saved Angela's life. Her aunt had brought her to my office, to say goodbye (Louise lived in Ohio). Anne had managed a goodbye, but I'd been sad to see her so reserved, so cold, like ice. She looked more like me than ever before, like my young self: heart encased in metal, unfeeling, uncaring and… old.

Louise was a good person, and I remember wishing time would help bring Anne back to life. Wishing I could somehow be a part of that. Now… ten years have gone by and I don't know what to expect, if she'll have healed or will remain broken.

Angela is waiting for an answer.

"Yes. Of course, we have her number. Booth works for the government, remember?"

"Right."

I get to the phone in my office the moment it starts ringing.

"Hello?"

"Bones!"

Suddenly I feel a little better. "Seeley!" I say loudly and cheerfully, even though I know how he reacts. I can hear him groan from the other end of the line.

"Honey, it sounded weird before, it sounds weird _now_. We met and you've always called me Booth. _Don't_ call me Seeley!"

"Annoying you is my passion."

"I'll call you Temperance all the time." He warns. But it's an empty threat, and I was just teasing him: we'd tried the whole first-name thing, but it had felt strange and forced. So it's Booth and Bones now and always. The kids think we're the lamest people on earth, but I think they'd find it strange too, if we suddenly said Seeley and Temperance. Those names are for night time, or special occasions.

"Booth, I need to ask something, so what did you want?"

"I was just calling to say hi." He admits. "Your voice sounds… uh, what's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing yet. It might be. Well, not wrong by definition, but perhaps by situation, you see…" I'm about to launch into a useless explanation to win some time, but he's too familiar with the tactic. His voice is gentle when he interrupts me.

"Hey. I can come over if you need me."

"I might, yes. But not because I'm emotionally incapable of dealing with this. As Dr Brennan, I might need your help with a murder case."

"Murder?"

"Yes. Margaret Stoker's murder."

The silence after I speak is ominous. Is he also recalling the night the world exploded into flames and I thought he'd died? Frank Bram's final words? Anne's tear-stained face? That first day, that first stakeout right outside Margaret's WP flat, when he asked me to kiss him…

"Do we know it's her?" He asks heavily.

"No. I had… It hasn't been confirmed, or even properly studied. I just… had a momentary feeling of… certainty."

He doesn't laugh or make a joke about it. He knows me too well, now. But I no longer feel an instant of panic, of wanting to flee anymore. Instead, I'm glad of his knowledge.

"You instinctively felt it was her?" He says.

"Yes. Not without basis, of course. But… mostly, yes."

"Okay. Well, I'll see you in a few."

"Bye."

"Love you."

"I love you too."

I hang up.

"Angela! Where's Hodgins?" She's standing on the platform talking to Cam, and she doesn't hear me. "Angela!" I shout again, getting up from my desk. This time she turns in surprise and shouts back: "What is it, Bren?"

"Where's Hodgins?" I repeat.

"I told you before, he's talking to Zach in the Bone…" Understanding dawns on her face. "He's on his way to talk to _you_ after I ask him to."

"Great." I give her a thankful smile and get back on the phone to dial Limbo. Yes, even _I_'m calling the storage room that. After so many years, I decided to just go with it.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hello, this is Dr Brennan, I'd like the artefact bag for a Jane Doe number 4560. Brought up to my office, if possible."

"Right away, Dr Brennan."

"Thank you." I add as an afterthought.

"No problem." I think I recognise his voice, it's Josh something… but I don't dare guess and get it wrong. He got Phillip Black's job a few years ago. Black was the security guard who knew Bram and who planted the camera on railing in the lab and shot Booth. Josh (I'm almost sure it's him) was young and (what Booth likes to call) "geeky", and he fell in love with Angela three seconds after meeting her. Hodgins made his position clear soon after that, though, seeing as how she was already married to him by then.

So now I jus sit and wait, I suppose. Time hasn't changed the fact that I despise inactivity, such as _waiting_. I console myself thinking that Booth is on his way. The thought makes me smile in anticipation. My husband is on his way to see me. Yes, well, me and a dead corpse, but mostly me. And he was calling just to check on me. Ridiculous, silly little things like these make me inexplicably happy. I can't rationally explain why, but I've embraced the way my heart-rate increases and dopamine and serotonin levels in my brain rise.

The feeling doesn't go away. The feeling of belonging to something and to someone. Of secure stability, which I'd never had before, never since I was a little girl…

That feeling doesn't go away.

So we may have another case ahead. And it will mean more work and challenges and difficulties… I think I'm up for a challenge, even if it's just the end of an old one.

I'm ready. We're _all_ ready.

Bring it on.


End file.
